


The Woebegone Wanderers

by Nimohtar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing Up, M/M, Mentor Snape, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimohtar/pseuds/Nimohtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It is 1989, and Severus uncovers a Death Eater plot to use a young Harry Potter to return the Dark Lord. If even his family home cannot keep him safe, Severus is determined to provide the sanctuary and the guidance that will allow a boy to grow into a wizard powerful enough to bring a Prophecy to close, and defeat the Dark Lord once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Originally started August 2006.
> 
> Title comes from the Wild Beasts' track of the same name. 
> 
> Banner artwork is my own. 
> 
> N.B. Underage warning: Under 18, not under 16.

 

 

**October 1989**

Severus Snape stepped out of Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary, a small parcel tucked under one arm, and an irate scowl on his face. It was the middle of the day, Saturday no less, and the street was crowded. If not for the fact that the rare potions ingredient he had ordered was too delicate and volatile to be sent by owl post, he would not have ventured anywhere near here, especially today. He had planned on spending the day sitting in his room, curled up in his favourite armchair reading the new Potions Weekly, a quill and parchment beside him that he could use to scribble down any interesting new developments or ideas. He hated it when his plans were ruined.

Sighing, Severus turned to walk in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron where he could then Floo back to Hogwarts, when his eyes were caught by two wizards strolling along Diagon Alley. There was nothing overly suspicious about them at first glance - like many others, they wore long robes in muted colours with thick black cloaks thrown around their shoulders and held closed against the chill October air - but to Severus, the deceptively casual way they walked was clearly visible. He had not survived for so long without being able to notice these things.

Severus watched them go, curiosity lingering in his black eyes, but it wasn’t until he saw the two wizards turn towards the entrance of Knockturn Alley that he committed himself to satisfying it, and finding out what they were up to. After all, anything involving Lucius Malfoy and Walden McNair was bound to mean trouble.

Checking to see whether his wand was secure in the holster on his right forearm, Severus set off down the street after his one-time comrades. He kept out of sight, using shadows and doorways, even the occasional passer-by. He needn’t have worried, as neither Malfoy nor McNair turned to glance back. In a few short minutes, the two wizards, and Severus behind them, reached the seedier part of Wizarding London’s shopping district: Knockturn Alley - the home of the less-than-legal and darker dealers of merchandise and the dregs of Wizarding society. Everyone who entered here had better have a hand on their wand and a curse on their lips, because here, only the strongest survived.

Following the two men, Severus kept an eye on his surroundings, sending an intimidating glare at the dirty-clothed people huddled on a corner who were eyeing him distrustfully. He was a familiar sight in some of these areas, especially when his potions required elements deemed somewhat suspect, and so was left largely alone.

The two Death Eaters in front of him were nearing a fork, and Severus hurried his pace so as not to lose his sight of them, a small frown adorning his brow. If the two of them turned to the right, they could be lost within mere seconds in the maze of what was unofficially named ‘Knockturn Warren’, a multitude of winding lanes and sharp turns. It was the more dangerous side of Knockturn, and it was not without a small sigh of relief that he saw the two turn instead to the left, where the street would lead to the shopping Quarter; it was considered the respectable part of Knockturn - if any place in Knockturn could boast of a title such as that.

He followed them down the cobbled street, past dingy shops and unsavoury customers, until he saw them enter the heart of the district: Knockturn Square, where witches and wizards gathered to meet in and around the market stalls. Narrow alleys and streets led off in every direction; every part of the district reached here, and in turn, every part of the district could be reached from here. This was the place where darkness thrived, a mutating and living thing that fed off the inhabitants who came here. Here, everything had a price, and if you were willing to pay, someone, somewhere, was willing to sell.

Malfoy and McNair stopped near an old, crumbling fountain, with the aristocratic blonde looking around himself disdainfully, hand gripping the black and silver cane which Severus knew held his wand. So even Malfoy was cautious. It did not bode well. Not well at all.

Glancing around him, Severus spied a narrow niche near to the fountain, where withered ivy hung in a curtain, obscuring it from view. Surreptitiously, he made his way around the edges of the square, all the time keeping his eyes on the two Death Eaters waiting by the fountain. When he reached it, Severus slid inside, after quickly checking and finding no harmful spells or hexes. He made sure his wand was easily available, and kept his back to the wall. When he looked back to the fountain, he found that Malfoy and McNair had been joined by two others, and narrowing his eyes slightly, he recognised the faces of Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood.

The four greeted each other with polite nods before moving closer together and beginning to speak in hushed voices. Severus could only just hear the occasional word, and was looking around for a better place to eavesdrop, when a witch with a large cart rushed passed the group, causing them to leap out of the way, and incidentally, nearer to Severus. Rookwood was glaring after the witch, but Malfoy’s sharp command brought his attention back to what he was saying.

‘....we have three days, and all is in place. I’ve had others tampering with the wards for weeks now, and by then, they will have sufficiently weakened enough to allow us to enter without triggering the alarm. We will have approximately two hours, then, to kill the Muggles and get the boy, before someone notices that the wards have been breached.’

‘More than enough time,’ Rookwood murmured.

Lucius Malfoy nodded. ‘Exactly.’

‘But Lucius, how do you know that this plan will work?’ Dolohov began, lifting a quivering hand to rub over his mouth. ‘Why go to all this bother when the potion to bring Our Lord-’

‘Quiet, fool!’ McNair hissed.

‘Do you want us to be overheard?’ Dolohov quickly shook his head.

‘Are you having doubts, Antonin?’ Rookwood murmured, a small note of warning in his tone. ‘Are you too much of a coward to serve Him?’

‘Of course not!’ Dolohov retorted hotly. ‘I was just questioning whether it was necessary, that is all! Why go to all this danger and trouble when anyone would do?’

Rookwood kept his level gaze on Dolohov for a moment longer, before his lips curled into a sneer and he answered. ‘We know that, but using the boy’s blood would be so much more fitting. Just think; the one who defeated Him will be the one to bring Him back.’

‘Besides,’ Malfoy said coldly, ‘it is not for you to question, Antonin, only to follow orders. Is that understood?’

Dolohov nodded sharply, though it was clear from his expression that he was anything but happy with the situation. The others ignored him, and were about to start speaking once more, when they were interrupted by the sounds of a fight that had just broken out between two wizards near to them. They watched dispassionately as the larger wizard picked up the smaller, and tossed him against a wooden stall. The wood cracked under the impact, and the stall owner proceeded to join in with the fight, only this time brandishing a wand.

Malfoy and the others sneered in distaste.

‘Let us leave, before we become broiled into this. We can discuss this elsewhere,’ Malfoy said, and the others nodded, before the small group set off down one of the nearby streets, the arrow on the wall labelling it as the one that led towards Diagon Alley.

Severus waited until they were out of sight, before he too left Knockturn Square, hurrying in the other direction towards the Leaky Cauldron. His mind was awhirl with what he had just heard, and was working frantically to make sense of it. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance to Diagon Alley that he finally realised just what exactly the four Death Eaters had been discussing, and when he did, he came to a standstill in the middle of the street, ignoring the angry exclamations from passer-bys.

In three days, the Death Eaters were going to attack the home of some Muggles, kill them and then take away with them a ‘boy’. The boy’s blood was to be used in a potion to bring back the Dark Lord, and as far as he knew, the only person who could be referred to as ‘the one who defeated Him’ was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

In a daze, Severus began to move again, faster now, as he wanted to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible where he would be able to think through and cement the foolish thoughts and plans that were even now running through his head. He had only three days to plan.

On October the Thirty-First, Death Eaters would attack the house of Harry Potter, while the rest of the Wizarding World celebrated the eighth anniversary of the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

 

* * *

 

It was two days later, and Severus stalked through the halls of Hogwarts, glaring at any student to cross his path, as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. He himself was on another mission.

The Potions Master reached the Transfigurations corridor, and made his way to the office at the end. If he was in luck, Minerva would be at dinner long enough for him do what he had come to do, and no one would know he had even been here. Severus glanced round, and with a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, had the door to the Deputy Headmistress’ office unlocked and open. He slithered through, and entered, pushing the door closed softly behind him.

He looked around the room, wincing at the - in his opinion - garish red and gold colour scheme. If a stranger had entered, they would have been in no doubt as to which House Minerva McGonagall had been in at school. Ignoring the cheery fire and welcoming armchairs in front of it, Severus made his way over to the large mahogany desk, and pushing aside the solid wooden chair, he began opening drawers and rifling through papers. He opened one of the drawers, and could only raise an eyebrow at the assortment of furry mice and balls inside. He was about to close it again when the door to the room opened, and he looked up to see the tartan-robed witch looking at him oddly.

‘Severus,’ she greeted, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

‘Minerva,’ he said, straightening, and he tried to paste a warm smile on his face. It took some effort, but he seemed to manage it, because Minerva relaxed somewhat and stepped further into the room.

‘What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?’

‘I was looking for the Book of Records. I need to send a letter to a student’s family,’ he improvised.

Minerva hadn’t moved from the doorway. ‘Severus, you usually ask me for the address. You never look for it yourself.’

‘Yes, well,’ he sneered slightly. ‘The reason behind the letter is of a...delicate nature, and would cause undue embarrassment if the party in question were to be revealed,’ he lied. ‘I didn’t think it worth disturbing you over.’

Minerva continued looking at him strangely, but finally she smiled at him. Severus hid a sigh of relief.

‘Why Severus, you only had to ask. I'll get you the book at once.’ The old witch turned away from the desk, and Severus watched as she walked over to an ornately carved door in a bookcase, pulling a tiny gold key from around her neck. Unlocking it, she proceeded to pull out a dark brown leather-bound book, bringing it over to the desk, and putting it down in front of Severus. ‘Now, take as long as you need. When you’re done, just place the book back in the cabinet and it will lock itself. I’m going back to dinner; Albus says the House-Elves outdid themselves on the trifle tonight.’

Severus nodded, watching her closely. She didn’t seem suspicious, but with Minerva, it was hard to tell sometimes.

Minerva moved towards the door, but just as she was about to walk through, she turned to look back at Severus. ‘You could never bother me, Severus, I hope you know that?’ With those parting words she left, closing the door behind her.

When Severus was sure she would not return, he sat down in her chair, and opened the book. At first glance, it appeared to be empty, but when Severus picked up a quill lying on the desk and wrote down a name, the still-wet ink dissolved into the pages, and in its place, four lines of script appeared.

Harry James Potter   
The Cupboard Under the Stairs  
Number Four Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

Tearing off a piece of parchment from the stack on the desk next to him, Severus copied down the address, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He would memorise it later, just before he burned the slip of parchment. Severus then tapped the end of his quill twice on the page of the book and when the address before him dissolved, he wrote down a different name. He repeated the process another eight times. It was probably an excess, but he doubted that anyone would look back further than a few names.

Standing up, Severus closed the large tomb, and swiftly returned it to its place in the cabinet, waiting until he heard the sound of the lock closing and the tingle of wards engaging before leaving the room. After that he swept down the corridors and back into the familiar coldness of the dungeons. No matter what others said - and there were a lot - to him, they were home.

Severus nodded to a few Slytherin students hurrying past him on their way to dinner, and within moments he had reached the corridor that led to his Chambers. Placing a hand on the black stone next to the flickering torch, he whispered the password, and a short second later, the wall in front of him dissolved, leaving him looking at a thick wooden door. He opened it easily, and passed through into his rooms.

The once comfortable room was now bare, all furniture and personal belongings cleared out during the last two days. All that was left was the stack of shelves against one wall, and the patches of dust; the only testament that at one time, someone had lived here. His office was just as empty.

Severus glanced around him, taking in the unlit grate and the large mantelpiece where only a few short days ago, trinkets and an old clock had resided. He moved into the bedroom, empty also, and into the bathroom beyond. He went into his personal lab, next the library, on the pretence that he was checking for any last minute items that had been overlooked, but in reality memorising every single part of the chambers. Here he had hurt, had healed, had cried, and hated. This had been his home, his sanctuary, for over eight years, and he knew that he may never return here.

Firming his resolve against the doubts surfacing in his mind, Severus returned to the living room, pulling out the parchment in his pocket. He read the address until he had it memorised, then used his wand to burn the paper. He conjured a quill and another parchment, and sat down at the plain wooden table and chair that he had left.

 

_Dear Albus,_

_By the time you read this I shall be gone, and this time, I do not jest. What I am doing is important, even though I cannot tell you at this time._

_I am grateful to you Albus, for all that you have done for me; so very grateful, that I sometimes wonder whether you really know how much it means to me. You believed me when no one else would dare and you befriended me when no one else wanted to. We have had our differences, and I know that there were times when I hated you so intensely that there was very little stopping me from cursing you._

_I am sorry to leave you like this, with no warning, but it had to be done. I have cleared out my quarters and have taken all of my belongings with me. I do not know whether I will return, but if I do, I hope that I shall still be welcome. For my duties, I would recommend Sinistra for the position of Head of Slytherin House, as she is a fair witch, and will look after my Snakes well. As for the position of Teacher of Potions, at least try to find someone competent, rather than the useless imbeciles you hire each year for Defence._

_I cannot tell you where we will be, but I shall endeavour to write to you, at least to let you know all is well. I have no doubt that you will be disappointed in me, but this is the path I have chosen to take, and I know that it is one that I must; all that I ask is that you do not judge me too harshly._

_Farewell, Albus, and know that I am ever loyal to you._

_Severus Snape_

 

Signing the letter, Severus folded it and charmed it so that only the recipient could open it, before scrawling _Albus Dumbledore_ on the front. He was sure the Headmaster would seek him out before long when he failed to show up for classes on Monday; he’d made sure to mention a potion he wanted to brew, sure that his absence over the weekend would be excused away by his work.

Standing, he left the letter on the table, propped up by an empty glass vial. His finger lingered on the letter and he almost had to wrench it away.  
It was madness, his plan. It would likely end in his death. He could bring to mind easily all the reasons why he should abandon the idea now; reasons that he had spent that first night after visiting Knockturn compiling, but at the same time he knew he would still do it. No matter how many times he told himself he had a choice, he knew that he did not.

Death Eaters were active, the Dark Lord was stirring, and the boy was unprepared, hidden among Muggles who could no longer keep him safe. He’d thought of going to Dumbledore, but he feared the old man was too soft for all he was the leader of the Light in this war. He’d see a child, someone to be kept safe and ignorant from the trials and terrors that surrounded him, and Severus knew it would doom them all. It was up to him to make sure Harry Potter knew what he must to survive this next stage in the war, and in turn, do what he must for everyone to survive.

He knew just how important the boy was. He’d been the one to pass on the prophecy to the Dark Lord, the prophecy which had instigated the witch-hunt and led to the deaths of one of the only people Severus had ever held dear, for all that he’d not always shown it. He’d repented after that, turned spy, and had made a promise to look after the son of his hated enemy and childhood friend.

He’d fulfil that promise now.

Severus picked up the small bag by the door, filled with a number of potions, parchments and quills, and throwing it over his shoulder, he set off once more through his dungeons, towards the entrance hall. As he was passing by the open doors to the Great Hall, he could hear the chattering voices of students, enjoying the last day before Halloween. He hesitated briefly, and looked over them, wondering if he had ever been that carefree, that innocent.

No, he mused sadly, he hadn’t.

His eyes lifted to the man sitting at the head of the table, great snowy beard tucked into the belt of bright blue and yellow robes, the matching wizard’s hat bobbing on his head as he nodded to something Professor Vector was saying beside him. Severus could just imagine the plate before him full of trifle, and had to work to swallow past the lump in his throat.

He turned his back on the hall and stepped closer to the main doors. Beyond he could see the first stars appearing in the bruise-coloured sky. It had always been the story of his life; turning away from the light and warmth, to the dark and cold, where every step was a struggle.

Severus had always been taught to get on with what was necessary, no matter how much pain or suffering it caused. It had helped him, ultimately, during the trials of his life, and he wrapped the knowledge around him now like an invisible shield against anything that could hurt him, even as he stepped out onto the damp ground outside. He started walking, leisurely, enjoying the lingering comfort that Hogwarts herself seemed to provide for him, as if she knew what he was facing and wished him luck.

He smiled, the first true smile in a long time, and reaching the main gate, Apparated away into the night. The echoing crack was the only sign that he had been there.

 

* * *

 

Privet Drive was as normal a place as Severus had ever seen. Semi-detached houses painted white or a variation thereof, neatly trimmed front gardens where weeds feared to grow, and only the different types of cars sitting in front of the houses showed any individuality. Severus found it hard to believe that the sister of Lily Evans chose to live here.

Dismissing the thought, Severus looked around from his position under a tall tree until he spotted the door marked with the number ‘four’. He cast a notice-me-not spell over himself, as he didn't need some Muggle seeing him in his wizard’s robes if they happened to glance out of the window. He quickened his pace and was soon standing in front of the perfectly normal blue door of Number Four, Privet Drive, sheltered slightly by the overhanging roof above his head.

He concentrated and felt the magic of the wards around the house, and the sickness that they emanated; a result of whatever Lucius and the Death Eaters had done. Severus smiled grimly. The same thing that would let the Death Eaters through the wards tomorrow would be the thing to let him in now. There was also the added fact that despite the Dark Mark on his arm, there was nothing malicious about his purpose for being here.

Severus lessened the charm around him and raised a hand to knock on the door sharply. Looking through the glass he could just make out the fuzzy shape of someone rising and coming towards the door, and he could hear the faint sounds of a television set.

The door in front of him opened and a large man with small pig-like eyes, a minimal amount of neck and a large moustache peered out at him. Disly? Durble? What was it Albus had called him? The man took one look at his robes and then his small eyes widened and he made as if to slam the door shut. Severus was faster, though, and his hand bore down against the door. He leaned over until his face was at the same height as the man in front of him.

‘I suggest you let me in, for your life depends on what I have to say,’ he hissed, black eyes flashing.

‘I will not have _your_ kind in my house!’ the fat man declared, red sweeping up his neck.

‘Then you will _die_ ,’ Severus stated frostily.

The man before him dithered for a moment longer, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally stepping away from the door, harrumphing loudly and glaring. ‘Make sure you wipe your feet.’

Severus sneered and came inside as the man shut the door forcefully behind him.

‘Vernon, who was it?’ a high-pitched voice asked from inside the living room.

The man - Vernon - shot him a half-nervous half-outraged look and scurried into the living room as fast as he could considering his bulk, with Severus following leisurely behind.

The living room was as normal as the rest of the house, with cream walls and matching sofa, armchairs and curtains. When he entered Severus found the family sitting in front of the TV; a tall, horse-faced woman and a blonde boy who would soon resemble Vernon in size if he carried on the way he was.

Severus hoped that the boy wasn't Harry Potter, because the child before him looked very much spoilt, and a bully too if he wasn't mistaken. A quick glance to the boy's forehead revealed no lightning bolt-shaped scar, and Severus inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Then he frowned, as there was no other person in the room.

As soon as the woman caught sight of him, she let out a muffled shriek and stood up, pushing the blonde boy behind her - a useless feat, as he was nearly twice as wide as her.

By now, Vernon had recovered some of his bravado and stood in front of Severus with a firm expression on his face, his moustache twitching in anger. ‘Well? Who are you?! What are you doing here?!’ he asked loudly, chest puffing outwards in an attempt at intimidation.

A raised eyebrow from Severus and a condescending glance had him backing down slightly, and Severus turned to address his remarks to the woman. She looked nothing like Lily, but Severus could still see the slight family resemblance between the two. She’d never wanted anything to do with Severus and Lily when they’d be children, but she might remember his name. ‘You are Petunia, I presume?’

The woman nodded warily, her hands tightening their grip on her arms, until he could see her fingers turn white.

‘My name is Severus Snape.’ He saw a spark of recognition in her eyes, but they remained narrow and fearful. He continued: ‘I have come to warn you about an attack that will occur tomorrow night, on this house.’

Petunia paled dramatically, while the man - Dursley, ha! He remembered now - seemed to go an even darker shade of red and purple. ‘Now, see here -!’ he began, but Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the man before he could get further.

‘Silence, Dursley, before I turn you into a cockroach. Nothing compels me to tell you this.’

Dursley stopped speaking abruptly.

Severus turned back to Petunia and returned his wand to his pocket. ‘You know something of the events in our World in the last ten years or so, I hope?’

She grimaced but nodded, although she refused to say more.Severus bit back on his annoyance.

‘The Dark Lord is not dead. He is merely waiting, and biding his time until he can return. The attack tomorrow night will be carried out by his followers in order to capture Harry Potter and use him to restore the Dark Lord to life. The boy _must not fall into His hands_ or it will mean the death of us all. Do you understand me?’

Petunia Dursley nodded shakily, her mouth firming in determination. Severus’ almost non-existent respect for the woman rose a notch; perhaps she was not so different to Lily after all.

‘What should we do? We have no protection against _your_ kind; we cannot keep him safe.’

‘You must leave.’ Severus turned to Dursley. ‘Take your wife and son and leave. You cannot be here tomorrow night. Go wherever you can, just not near here.’

‘And the boy?’ Dursley asked nervously.

‘He will come with me. I can protect him far better than you,’ Severus said decisively, ready to override any protest by the boy’s family. He was surprised therefore, when no protest came. ‘Where is the boy?’ he asked, and both Petunia and her husband shot a glance behind Severus, to the hallway. Petunia pointed towards a small cupboard door.

Frowning, Severus turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, wrenching it open to find a small boy sitting on a mattress, staring up at Severus with wide bright green eyes behind large round glasses. He sat with his arms around his knees, only flinching slightly at the suddenly large man dressed in black scowling and looming at him before he stuck his chin in the air. There was light in his green eyes, and he seemed more curious than frightened.

Severus could see that the clothes he wore were too large for him, and worn from over-wearing; the glasses on his nose were broken and held together with tape. He seemed too small, thin, pathetically so. Looking around, Severus could see a pile of clothes folded neatly inside a cardboard box; small broken toys lined the wooden shelf over the boy's head and scuffed shoes had been placed neatly under the bed. Severus held back his surprise.

He had come tonight expecting to see the miniature version of James Potter, down to the arrogant expression and sneering eyes. He had expected a spoilt brat, living in comfort and luxury, wanting for nothing. Instead he’d found a child underfed and malnourished if his skinny body was anything to go by, and living in a cupboard. The address he’d copied down from the Book of Records seemed to make more sense now.

Severus looked over his shoulder at the Dursleys, his gaze fierce. ‘A cupboard? You’ve been keeping Lily’s son in a _cupboard_?’ he hissed, and felt dark satisfaction as Petunia flinched, turning her face away. It was just as well she attempted no excuses otherwise Severus might have cursed her, wards be damned. He looked back at the boy, trying to soften his glare. ‘You’re coming with me. Take anything you might need or want. You will not be returning,’ Severus ordered, standing up again.

After a brief hesitation and a slightly contemplative look, the green-eyed boy nodded once and reached down to pick up his shoes and slip them on. He looked around himself, and began piling his meagre belongings into the cardboard box with his clothes. There was an old toothbrush, some coloured pencils, papers covered with scribbled drawings.

When he had everything, he turned questioning eyes to Severus, and the older man reached out to pick up the box, shrinking it with his wand and slipping it into his pocket.

He turned around, not seeing how the boy’s eyes widened.

Severus strode back to the family waiting in the living room. They had barely moved from their previous positions. His expression was not pleasant.

‘I suggest you leave tonight; if you’re still here tomorrow, on your own heads be it; you’ve been warned,’ he said darkly. ‘I’ll take the boy now - rest assured, I won’t be bringing him back.’

That prompted some movement.

‘Good,’ Vernon Dursley barked, ‘we never wanted him here anyway. Brought us nothing but trouble.’

Petunia said nothing.

Severus’ glare deepened and his fingers itched for his wand. He wanted to curse them, obliviate them too, but they’d need the memories of tonight if they were to escape the attack tomorrow night. Added to that, when Dumbledore eventually hunted them down, as he surely would, Severus was relying on the information they gave to the Headmaster to explain his own actions and to enforce his safety; if Dumbledore knew he’d taken Potter, he’d have no reason to search for them. With Severus’ own note too, he would be able to put the pieces of the story together. He would be the only one.

‘Be grateful for your relation to Lily - no other reason would make me even think of saving your miserable hides,’ he said, the menace no less great for the quietness of his tone.

With that Severus swept out of the room before he did or said anything more to those worthless Muggles, to the hallway where Potter was waiting for him next to the door.

‘Come, we’re leaving,’ he barked a bit more harshly than he’d intended, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and marching him out of the house, down the street to the tree he’d first appeared under earlier that evening. Once they were safely hidden in the shadows, he pulled out his wand and grabbed the boy more firmly by the shoulder, Apparating away with a crack, away from the normality of Privet Drive, knowing that he could not turn back from his chosen path now.

 

* * *

 

They landed with a small thud in a grassy field, somewhere in rural Devon. There was little to see for miles around except fields, criss-crossed with low stone brick walls and dusty footpaths, the odd copse of trees here and there, and in the distance a small, ramshackle one-storey farmhouse which Severus had purchased just the day before. It was rundown and antiquated, but had electricity and running water, and it would suit their needs. It sat on the top of a sloping hill, providing a good view of the surrounding area. The nearest town was half-an-hour away, and was completely Muggle. They would be able to buy necessary food supplies from there for the time they stayed here.

Severus had already put up the wards around the house and surrounding grounds, the strongest he knew, even ones that touched on Dark Magic, and as an extra precaution had placed the house under the Fidelis Charm, with himself as the Secret Keeper. He would have to show the boy the address for him to see the house, and he reached into his pocket for the piece of paper with ‘Birkbrook Farm’ scrawled on it, turning to the boy at his side, and opening his mouth to explain to him the rules about the charm and the farm.

When he looked down, however, it was to see the boy’s face bleached of colour, eyes wide with fear, and it was then he noticed what he thought was a boy’s normal activeness and refusal to stay still was actually the boy’s trembling. Severus scowled, not relishing dealing with whatever childish hysterics had suddenly come over the boy while they stood here exposed, outside of the wards.

‘Potter, what is it?’ he demanded.

The boy shook his head jerkily, and his trembling increased a notch. His eyes kept darting from Severus, to the trees and fields around them, then back to the man, though he made sure to never meet his eyes.

‘Potter!’

‘I...I...’ He stuttered. ‘I...You...’

With a sinking feeling, Severus regarded the boy in front of him. ‘You do know about magic? You have been told about the Wizarding World, and wizards and witches and Hogwarts, haven’t you?’

Potter stayed silent, head hanging low.

‘Potter, yes or no: do you know about magic?’ Severus said sharply. The boy quickly replied with a shake of his head.

Severus bit back his groan of frustration, cursing Dumbledore under his breath. Of all the idiotic, senseless things to do - letting the boy who was meant to defeat Voldemort grow up ignorant of magic.

Severus hid a sigh as another thing came to him. No wonder the boy was scared, when as far as he knew he had just been taken from the only home he knew and somehow magically transported into the middle of nowhere by a complete stranger who was both bigger and physically stronger than him.

There was a reason why Minerva or Pomona Sprout were sent to inform Muggle-born students about magic and Hogwarts, rather than him. He had no patience with trying to answer all their questions and reassure them about their understandable fears. But now he was the only one who could explain to Potter about his magical heritage, and he would have to do his best, and perhaps it would even be a blessing.

‘Potter, I am not going to harm you - I’m here to help. I give you my word I will explain everything to you, but right now we have to get into the house where it’s safe.’ He tried to keep his voice level.

The boy looked up at him, still wary, but his anxiety had receded slightly at least and he’d stopped trembling. ‘House?’

‘It’s hidden at the moment.’ Severus reached for the paper again and held it out for the boy to take. ‘You need to read this, and concentrate hard on it.’

The boy did as he was told and when he looked up, Severus pointed to the house in the distance, just visible in the darkening gloom. He heard the boy gasp loudly, and the paper fluttered from his hands. Severus picked it up and stuffed it back in his pocket.

‘Come. I’ll show you around tomorrow. For now, there’s food, and I think we could both do with an early night.’

Potter opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently thought better of it, as instead he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip.

‘I will explain after we eat,’ Severus said, guessing what the boy was going to say.

Potter nodded, and they started walking up the hill towards the farmhouse. Severus kept his eye on their surroundings, just in case.

The farmhouse had a porch at the front, and they had to climb the few wooden steps in order to reach the front door. Here, Severus released Potter, and after a quick glance his way, reached into another pocket and pulled out a small knife most commonly used for cutting potions ingredients. ‘I need a few drops of your blood to key you into the wards of the house.’

The boy looked at him apprehensively, but nodded nonetheless. Severus took his right hand, and made a shallow cut across the palm. The boy sucked in a breath at the sudden sting, but otherwise made no noise. Severus pushed the bleeding hand against a flat stone next to the front door, pulling out his wand and muttering a spell. He waited until the wards acknowledged and accepted the new addition before he pulled the boy’s hand away, using his wand to heal the cut. The boy ran a finger across his palm, and looked at Severus’ wand with barely hidden interest.

‘Later,’ Severus murmured, and ushered the boy into the house. The door opened onto the hallway, a staircase on the left leading up to the upper floor. On the right was a door leading to the sitting room, where some furniture had been left from the previous owners. There were several trunks lined up along the hallway, books, mostly and some of his personal possessions both from Hogwarts and Spinner’s End, too. His most valuable items he’d stored in his Gringotts vault.

Leaving the tour for later, Severus led the boy straight through to the kitchen, using his wand to turn on the lights. He motioned for Potter to sit in one of the chairs, and the boy did so, resting his hands in his lap, watching as Severus opened the paper bag sitting on the table and took out a flagon of pumpkin juice, and some sandwiches he’d pilfered from the kitchens. It wasn’t the most spectacular of feasts, but it would have to do for now until he had a chance to visit the village for food and sort out a routine.

Merlin, he’d be living here now, for who knew how long, and it was only beginning to sink in now.

Pushing aside those thoughts, he pulled out two plates and two glasses, and shared out the simple meal and the drink. He handed one of the plates to the boy and took a seat opposite him. They ate in silence, and when they were done, Severus dumped the plates in the sink, to wash tomorrow.

He then sat down at the table once more, leaning his elbows on the table, and placing his head in his hands while he tried to collect his thoughts. He could feel the boy’s intense gaze resting on his hair, quiet but expectant. At least he hadn’t started whining, which Severus had half-expected. With a sigh, he straightened again.

‘There are two worlds on this earth: the Muggle world, in which you have grown up and then the Magical, or Wizarding World, which is your rightful home. The Wizarding world is hidden from the Muggle world and is for the most part isolated from country to country. The Wizarding World holds many different people and races - all those things you’ve only heard of likely exist: there are mermaids, goblins, unicorns, dragons, elves… of the humans, those people who use wands to utilise magic, males are called Wizards, and females are Witches. I’m a Wizard, and so are you.’

Severus carried on. ‘Witches and Wizards are capable of many things using magic - spells and charms, flying, changing into an animal; all sorts of things. Here in Britain, to learn all of these things, at the age of eleven if a child has magical potential, they will usually receive a letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where up until today I was a Professor. Do you understand so far?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Potter replied quietly. His eyes were wide, and Severus was sure he was feeling overwhelmed at all this new information that had suddenly been sprung on him. There was not much to do about it; he’d have to learn all this some time.

‘Do you have any questions?’

Potter licked his lips. ‘Could you tell me what we’re doing here? I mean - why we had to come here.’

Severus looked at him for a moment, then sighed again. He didn’t want to have this conversation with the boy. ‘Very well. I will tell you something about what has been happening, and what has forced me - and you - to do this. Later on perhaps, I will find you a more reliable source of information, but for now, I will have to do.’

Potter stared at him expectantly.

‘Like any world, our world is not perfect. We may have magic and we may be able to do wondrous things, but there are always problems. The current problem lies in blood. People can be classed by their blood: Pure-bloods, who can trace their wizard ancestry back for generations; half-bloods, like you and like me, who have one pureblood parent and one Muggle or Muggleborn, or those they call Mudbloods, magical children born to Muggles. Each type has its own strengths and weaknesses, and it is difficult to tell who is right in their thinking. Pure-blood families are dying out, and so many are now the result of inbreeding. However, they are the ones who pass on the ancient traditions and produce the stronger wizards. Muggle-borns usually have no prior knowledge of the Wizarding world, and are therefore less prepared for what they will have to learn. Their magic is predominantly weaker than others, too. Half-blood characteristics vary from wizard to wizard.

‘Approximately forty or so years ago, there was a wizard who decided that he was better than those around him. He wanted to preserve the purity of blood, despite being a half-blood himself, and decided the best way to do this was to form a - group, I suppose, of like-minded individuals, whom he named Death Eaters. They were his followers, marked on the inside of their left arm with the Dark Mark; an image of a skull and a snake.’ Severus hesitated. ‘I suppose it is only fair to inform you that I, also, was a Death Eater, but have long turned away from that path.’

The boy nodded, and Severus was glad that he seemed to accept both his explanation and revelation of loyalties. He could only imagine if some other person had explained the Dark Lord and the role of the Death Eaters to Potter; Harry Potter might have grown up believing firmly in the old adage: ‘Light wizards are Good, Dark wizards are Evil’. At least Severus could raise him with an open-minded view to life, and show him that the world was not Light and Dark, Good and Evil, but a murky shade of grey. He knew that only those who walked both sides of the line would survive in the end.

Severus carried on. ‘The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters spread terror and destruction across the whole of the British Wizarding world, though there was no doubt that if he ever conquered Britain, Europe would be next. There were those who fought against him: wizards such as Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts; but for many, the Dark Lord meant death. He killed any who opposed him, and any who did not join him.’

By now, Severus’ eyes were no longer looking at the boy opposite him, instead they had returned to the past. He could almost hear the screams of the victims that fell under his wand; smell the smoke as homes were burnt to the ground, feel the darkness slide its velvet threads in and around him with each Unforgivable he cast. A shudder brushed down his spine.

‘Then, one night, eight years ago, almost exactly to the day, the Dark Lord set forth to kill a family; a witch, a wizard, and their fifteen month old baby. He had learnt from one of his Death Eaters of a prophecy that foretold the birth of a child with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. He went to the house where the family were hiding. No one is entirely sure of what happened that night, and those that know, aren’t sure why, but after the Dark Lord had killed the mother and the father, he turned his wand on the baby, but could not kill him - even using a curse that _always_ brings death to the victim. The Dark Lord was defeated, supposedly died, and the baby was given the title Boy-Who-Lived. All that was left from that night was a scar on his forehead, from where the Dark Lord cursed him. He is the only one to ever survive the Killing Curse.’

Severus fell silent, and all that was heard in the kitchen was the soft ticking of the clock, until the silence was broken by the boy’s soft voice.

‘The baby, it was me, wasn’t it?’

Severus nodded, eyeing his glass of juice and wishing it was something stronger.

‘They told me my parents died in a car crash.’

The laugh that poured from Severus’ lips was just this side of hysterical, and he smothered it quickly. ‘No, Potter. They were murdered. Like so many others; and you are just another victim of war.’

‘What happened afterwards?’

‘The world celebrated. Those that died were lauded, and those that happened to be on the wrong side found themselves outcasts in society unless they had enough money or influence to free themselves from prison.’

‘And now?’

‘Now, the Dark Lord’s followers are attempting to bring him back, and no doubt they will succeed eventually, and you have the _honour_ ’, he sneered the last word, ‘of once again having to rid the world of Him.’

‘Because of a prophecy?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re planning on helping me.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

‘Yes. I am planning to help you.’ The two fell into silence once more, both lost in their own thoughts.

Severus was too drained to notice much. All he wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week - hide from anyone and everyone, but he knew he wouldn’t have that luxury.

‘What was his name?’

‘Lord Voldemort,’ he answered without hesitation. He knew well Albus’ insistence that fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself; he was perfectly aware that he did _not_ fear the name – but the man. ‘Though he was born Tom Riddle. You’ll find that for the most part, very few people will call him by his name; they use ‘You-Know-Who’ and ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ instead. If you would, refer to him as the Dark Lord in my presence. I prefer it.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Another minute passed in silence.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you know my parents? The Dursleys never told me anything about them.’

Severus had to close his eyes again, a twitch in his jaw. With conscious effort he relaxed. ‘Yes, Potter, I knew your parents. Your father and I did not get along, but I knew your mother for many years.’ He forced himself to continue. ‘I will tell you about them some other time.’

‘Okay.’ The boy’s eyes were luminescent.

Severus felt weary to the bone, and closed his eyes for a long moment as he breathed deeply. ‘I am sure you have more questions, and I will endeavour to answer them as best I can, but for now, I think it’s time for bed.’

Severus slowly rose to his feet and with a flick of his hand, motioned for Potter to follow him. The boy scrambled to his feet, and followed him up the narrow and worn stairs. He showed the boy each room upstairs, one for Severus, one for Potter, and a small bathroom to share. He resized the box of belongings and waited outside the door while the boy used the bathroom, changing and brushing his teeth.

He stood in the doorway as Potter clambered into bed, and covered himself with the thick dark blue blankets. His expression was largely lost, faintly stunned, and Severus felt the unfamiliar urge to comfort him.

‘Potter…this is not what I would have wanted for you, but I believe it is the best option we have. We will be spending much time together, here, and I do not know how long it will be before it is all over. It would be best if we get along. I am not a… nice man, but I will do all in my power to keep you safe and well and make sure you are prepared for what you must inevitably face; all you must do is listen and learn what I have to teach you.’

‘Yes, sir.’ There was a tremor to his voice, but Severus could think of nothing more to say to allay his fears.

He used his wand to turn the light off, and was about to leave, when Potter’s voice sounded from the dark room. ‘Sir? What do I call you? I don’t know your name.’

Pausing, Severus turned to look back, and by the light of the hallway, he could see the small boy sitting in the middle of a large bed, swamped by too-big pyjamas and covers. He had the same tousled messy look that James Potter had had, the same glasses and build, but his eyes were Lily’s and oh how they looked at him now, all emotions visible, hope and terror and pleading, seeking out a lifeline in this strange new situation he’d been thrown into.

‘Severus. You can call me Severus,’ he said quietly.

‘Will…will you call me Harry?’

_Harry._

Severus' lips curled into a wry smile. ‘Goodnight, Harry.’

He closed the door softly, turning to go down the stairs once more and make a check of the house before finding his own bed. His mind however, returned to the boy upstairs, who now had the fate of the Wizarding world resting on his small shoulders.

No longer James in his mind, not Potter, and not even Lily’s son but _Harry_.


	2. Chapter 2

**31 October 1989**

Alarms screamed in his office, forcing him from bed with hurried steps, running through the short corridor barefoot, his nightgown fluttering around his legs. Inside, portraits yelled and cried in alarm around him, and it took him a minute to find out which alarm was sounding; there were so many.

He paled when he noticed it at last. ‘Oh Merlin.’

He ran to the Floo, threw in some glittering powder from the gnome shaped pot on the mantelpiece, calling those he’d need - Arthur, Kingsley, Hestia, Emmeline…

He sensed more than heard Minerva enter the office behind him.

‘Albus, what’s wrong?’

‘The wards at Privet Drive have been breached; Harry Potter is under attack,’ he said quickly, ignoring the way she blanched and the weight in his own chest. ‘Please fetch Severus - he is not answering his Floo.’

He didn’t wait to see her leave to obey his orders - there were still people he needed to call, things he needed to do before he could leave the castle to go there. He also saw to his clothes, transfiguring his nightgown into a robe and charming a pair of slippers onto his feet.

Only minutes later Minerva returned, her expression even more horrified than when she’d left the room. Albus’ chest seized again as he took notice.

‘He’s gone, Albus - there’s nothing there, just - just this.’ She stretched out her hand, in it an envelope.

Albus near snatched it from her, tore it open, his eyes moving quickly over the single parchment within, some unnameable emotion trying to claw its way through his throat. He wasted no more time, drawing the power of Hogwarts around him and Apparating straight to Privet Drive.

The first thing he saw was the Dark Mark hanging in the sky, sickly green and terrifying. Beneath it the scene was a mess, Muggle fire brigades with screeching sirens, people lining the streets in their night clothes. He could see Auror crews at work already, casting Obliviates and Muggle repellent charms. In front of him more Aurors were casting water charms at the blazing Number Four Privet Drive. He could see Kingsley overseeing the operation, and he made his way to him.

‘Kingsley…’ he began, preparing himself for the worst. ‘Tell me what you know.’

Kingsley turned to him, a hand running over his shaved head. ‘Not all that much, for now. The Spell Squad is waiting until the fire’s out before they go in - they’ll be able to tell us a bit more of what happened. I can say now though that there’s a lot of Dark Magic in the air, and that fire was not started by natural means.’

Albus nodded, glints on his half-moon glasses from the flames. ‘What of Harry?’

Kingsley shook his head. ‘We did a check as soon as we got here - there was no one inside that house when the fire started, and it had been burning for a good hour before you called us. I can’t tell you anything more than that.’

‘Thank you, Kingsley.’ His words came out heavily.

The other man nodded and turned back to the house.

Albus glanced around, wondered for a moment where he’d be most useful now, when he heard his name called. He turned and saw Arabella Figg standing among the crowd of Muggles, an orange cat in her arms as she waved him over and an anxious expression on her face. He made his way towards her, not caring that the people beside her tittered as he approached.

‘Arabella-’ he began, but she cut him off.

‘I saw them leave this morning,’ she blurted out. ‘The Dursleys, I mean. They packed their things up and put them in the car and drove off. Said they were going on a trip for a few days-’

Albus closed his eyes as relief swept through him.

‘-but see, Headmaster, thing is, young Harry wasn’t with them.’

His eyes snapped open. ‘What was that?’

‘I said - young Harry wasn’t with them,’ Arabella repeated faithfully. ‘When I asked them where he was they said he’d been taken away and wasn’t their problem any more.’

‘Did they say who’d taken him away?’

She shook her head, hand stroking along her cat’s back. ‘I’m afraid not. They seemed in a hurry to get away.’

‘Thank you, Arabella.’ It was always good to be polite, even when his mind was in turmoil.

Hours later he sat at his desk, hands laid out on the table, his head bowed and his eyes distant. It was reaching dawn now, and he’d yet to sleep; he’d spoken to so many people, listened to all their stories, been firecalling for what seemed like hours. The Dursleys had yet to be found, but he’d sent Kingsley looking into it; Harry was still missing, as was Severus.

He glanced down at his desk where spread out in front of him were a dozen pieces of parchment, notes and reports from those who’d been there this evening, missives from others who’d been sent out to investigate different things; it was like pieces of a puzzle, all the information he needed in front of him, and all he had to do was work it out.

It felt like he’d read them all a hundred times already, but sighing, he knew there was nothing for it but to start again. He reached for Severus’ letter, eyes moving over the words once more. Perhaps it was his tiredness, perhaps his preoccupied mind had missed the clues before, but now he saw it, that one line that held so many secrets and answers.

_I cannot tell you where we will be, but I shall endeavour to write to you, at least to let you know all is well._

_I cannot tell you where we will be -_

_\- where **we** will be-_

We.

And suddenly all the pieces fell into place.

‘Oh my boy…what have you done.’

 

* * *

 

**1 st November 1989**

_Radio Excerpt:_

 

‘…And now, for the latest news headlines on Wizarding Wireless Network: there was an attack last night on a Muggle home in Surrey. The Magical Law Enforcement were called to deal with the aftermath of the attack, and reported that the Dark Mark was seen in the sky. Unfortunately, none of the culprits were apprehended, although Aurors found signs of forced entry and destruction. The residents of the house were not present on the scene, and investigation is underway onto who they are, and why they were targeted. More news on that when we have it. And now, moving on…’

 

* * *

 

**6th November 1989**

_Radio Excerpt:_

 

‘… A shocking discovery has been made during the investigation of an attack on a Muggle home which occurred several nights ago. The residence in question belonged to none other than Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the Muggle guardians of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Recent reports from lead investigators indicate that the Muggles have been taken in for questioning on the matter at hand, with Albus Dumbledore - who was responsible for placing Harry Potter with his Muggle relatives after the death of his parents, Lily and James - acting as legal advisor and moral support. There has been no word on the whereabouts of Harry Potter, but he is believed to currently be missing, although Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has given assurances that he remains safe in another location, although has revealed no more details…’

 

* * *

 

**7 th November 1989 **

_Radio Excerpt:_

 

‘…More information on the Harry Potter Attack of October the Thirty-First has been released by the MLE. While Harry Potter has been named as the apparent target of the attack, there is no indication of who the perpetrators might have been, nor their possible aim, although one hardly needs to guess. Harry Potter’s family have now been released, pending further investigation…’

 

* * *

 

**15 th November 1989**

_Notice in the Daily Prophet, issue 65223:_

 

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry now seeking Potions Master.

Board and Lodging provided; Salary negotiable.

Credentials required.

Please apply to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

 

 

* * *

 

**31 st July 1990**

 

‘Here.’

The small boy in front of him looked up from the large tome resting in his lap, his bright green eyes finding and meeting Severus’. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression softening into pleasure at seeing the elder wizard.

In the beginning, things hadn’t been smooth, the two of them virtual strangers forced into close proximity by necessity. Although a teacher, Severus had no liking for children and was unused to having one underfoot, especially a boy like Harry, who’d spent the first few weeks almost testing boundaries of his new existence, especially Severus’ temper and patience. There had been several arguments, victories and losses on both sides, but afterwards they’d known just a little bit more what to expect from the other, and the household had rested slightly easier. It had helped, Severus had found early on, to think of that night in Privet Drive, and connect what he had seen and picked up on to Harry’s behaviour. It gave him a better understanding of the boy - his quietness, his neatness, his lack of complaint, and a self-sufficiency rather advanced for his age.

They’d come far in the last few months, Severus thought, even as he thrust out his hand, holding a long thin box closer to Harry.

‘I bought you a gift,’ he said gruffly.

The green eyes widened dramatically, surprise infusing his small oval face.

‘What for?’

‘Today is your birthday, is it not? I’d thought it was customary to receive gifts on one’s birthday.’

If possible, Harry’s face grew even more surprised.

‘You…you got me a birthday present?’

‘Yes,’ Severus bit out, his eyebrows drawing down in a scowl; his pride was slightly bruised by the fact that the boy hadn’t immediately jumped to express his gratitude. The present hadn’t been easily acquired and though he adamantly refused to acknowledge it, there had been some part of him that had hoped the boy would be thankful for the effort he had gone to.

‘If I was mistaken-’

‘No!’ the boy quickly said, hurriedly putting the book he was reading to one side and sliding off the leather armchair in which he had been sitting. He took a step towards Severus, nervousness in his movements. Small white teeth bit absently on his lower lip.

‘Well?’ Severus asked sharply, his tone slightly cold.

‘It’s just…no one’s ever bought me a present before.’

And just like that, Severus’ anger faded and he sighed, knowing that he should have remembered not to jump to conclusions when it came to Harry.

‘Happy Birthday, Harry,’ he said softly and held out the present once more.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out, and carefully accepted the wooden box. At Severus’ nod, he took it over to the table and laid it down. With a quick glance in his direction, Harry opened the box, a small ‘oh’ escaping his parted lips as he looked inside. A long, thin piece of wood rested on dark blue velvet, light in colour and polished to a sheen.

‘A wand,’ Harry whispered. ‘You got me a wand.’

‘Twelve and a half inches, Ebony, with a Hippogriff feather core. It is unregistered, which means you can use it without discovery by the Ministry. While so far we have been studying the theory on various subjects, if we are to proceed with the practical aspect of your education, you require a wand of your own.’

Harry stared at him, his hand just touching his wand. ‘I thought that the wand chooses the wizard.’

Severus smirked. ‘I took a few drops of your blood with me and this is the wand that chose itself for you. The Ebony is a good wood for Dark Moon magic: banishing, dissolving and casting off evil influences. The Hippogriff feather is powerful and will do great things in the hands of a powerful wizard. Now, take the wand and give it a wave.’

Harry nodded, eagerly reaching for the long piece of wood. He held it correctly, having spent so long watching Severus and when he waved it, a blaze of sparks and fire trailed through the air in front of him. A wide smile overtook his face, and his green eyes shone brightly.

Severus’ lips curled upwards slightly. ‘Now the work will start in earnest.’

 

* * *

 

**February 1991**

Severus watched from the doorway as a cloud of dust erupted around Harry, and gave a little sigh when the boy immediately let out a stream of gusty coughs, waving his hands in front of his face to clear the air - only succeeding in making it worse.

‘Use your wand, Harry,’ he commanded, leaving his place at the door and stepping further into the room. It was one of the attic rooms he had created shortly after they had started living in Birkbrook, to accommodate the unwanted furniture and trunks of odds and ends which had been left in the house when he’d bought it, which he had not yet had time to sort through for one reason or another.

A glance down at Harry showed him the boy was perched on his knees, his wand pulled from his sleeve and held out in front of him, looking up at Severus out of those round glasses of his, waiting.

‘Pulvem Expello,’ he informed him, and leaning down, gently gripped the boy’s hand and showed him the appropriate wand movement for the spell - an arching sweep from left to right, followed by a sharp flick away from the body.

His hand having been released, Harry repeated both words and movement, and Severus could see the spark of delight in the green eyes as the dust around the room dissolved in an understated swirl. No matter how many spells he set the boy to learn, how many books to read, potions to memorise and tasks to do, Harry never seemed to lose his joy of magic - which Severus found both distasteful and endearing in equal measure, his natural cynicism making him certain that such a thing would not last long, while the other side of him didn’t want to see it go.

Severus nodded his approval. His praise was never overabundant, but he never left Harry in doubt of whether he was pleased with him, the same as he never failed to show when he was displeased, either - although the latter times were few and far between. Harry had proved to be an admirable student who, while not a genius by any stretch of the imagination, was willing to work hard and never complained about the work Severus had him do.

‘What are we looking for?’ Harry asked, startling Severus ever so slightly out of his thoughts, and propelling him into movement.

He slowly started traversing the room, his eyes scanning boxes - now free from dust and therefore more visible - attempting to get some kind of bearing on what might contain what.

‘Nothing in particular,’ he answered Harry absently. ‘We just need to sort through what’s here, and see whether anything is of use to us, in which case we shall keep it and make use of it. If it is not, then we shall discard it.’

Harry nodded and tucked his wand back into his sleeve. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

Severus glanced around, eyes falling on a large wardrobe and cupboard unit over to one side of the room.

‘Start over there.’ He pointed. ‘I’ll begin here.’

Harry nodded and hurried over to the area Severus had pointed, eagerly getting to work, while Severus settled himself on the floor with his robes spread out about him and did the same.

They worked steadily for over an hour, Harry doing most of the fetching and carrying, shifting both desirable and undesirable items into boxes, and then when they were full, carting them downstairs to either another room, or outside for disposal later. Severus supposed it could have been more easily accomplished on his own or with magic, but it gave Harry something more physical and entertaining to do, other than continually bringing things to Severus asking for their worth. He had never really expected Harry to know exactly what should be kept and what thrown away, and even with the boy taking his own initiative Severus would still have to go over his choices later, so it seemed best all round.

He was flicking through a rare-ish book on the mating habits of narwhals when he heard hesitant footsteps to his right. He looked up just as Harry came to a halt. ‘Yes?’

Harry held out the item he’d brought for Severus to see - a broom, greyish wood turned faintly green with age, chipped and splintered from handle to brush, the twigs of its tail riddled with what looked to be mould, and badly groomed. Along the handle Severus could see the faded engraving of its name: “Pluto 1950”.

‘It’s humming,’ Harry stated, holding it out slightly.

‘Well, it’s a broom - an old and badly cared for broom, I must admit - but a broom nonetheless,’ Severus said, reaching out to take it from Harry. It awoke to his touch at once, and he could feel there was still power in the thing, badly treated and aged as it was. He supposed that sometimes what they said was right and old craftsmanship lasted the longest.

‘But why would a broom hum in the first place?’

He glanced up, saw the confusion on Harry’s face, his small nose scrunched up under the black frames of his glasses. A little spark of surprise went through him upon realising that Harry was unaware of the role brooms played in the Wizarding World, but since being faced with Harry’s ignorance of magical matter had been, and was still, a fairly regular occurrence, he had become used to it and simply dealt with them as they happened.

‘Brooms are used for flying,’ he explained and saw the quickly ignited yearning that coloured Harry’s eyes a more vibrant green.

‘Flying?’ he said, wistfully.

Severus sighed lightly and gave into the inevitable. ‘Would you like me to show you?’

The response was immediate, Harry’s face becoming infused with delight, only partially guarded. ‘Please?’

Severus set aside the book on narwhals and got to his feet, leading the boy downstairs, where he first instructed him to grab his warm cloak before they stepped out into the garden, where the air was crisp and the grass crunched under their feet. The sun shone, but gave little heat, competing with the cool breezes. It was a nice day, in spite of the cold, and with their cloaks they wouldn’t have to worry about even that.

Severus began by explaining some of the basic spells used in broom care - to smooth splinters, check the stability of the broom, the breaking triggers woven into the broom itself… Harry listened patiently, took it all on board, got the spells he was instructed to try correctly… but Severus could see his whole being yearned to be on the broom, be up in the air, and he didn’t have the heart to make him wait any longer. He performed the last of the spells to test air-worthiness himself, and after giving Harry brief instructions on what to do, stood back and watched as Harry mounted the broom, as he kicked off, as he flew high.

He was a natural. His eyes were shining, his young body in tune with every motion of the broom, learning instinctively how to turn, which way, how much pressure to put on the broom to make it go how he wanted it to. There was such joy in him, his face, his very movements…He rode that old _Pluto 1950_ as if it were the grandest racing broom in existence.

He soared through the air, and standing on the ground down below, Severus smiled.

 

* * *

 

**1 st September 1991**

 

‘Albus, the students will be arriving soon.’

Albus acknowledged Minerva’s comment with a nod, but stayed sitting, his eyes glued to the Book in front of him, his wand resting lightly on the open page. He didn’t know how many times he’d sat with it. He whispered the spell again, almost couldn’t resist, and writing scrawled itself in front of him.

 

Harry James Potter

Location Unknown

 

It had said the same thing for nearly two years now, and it was a bittersweet thing to swallow. The powerful magic of the book would give the address of those whose names were listed on the Hogwarts register no matter where they were. That Harry couldn’t be found was a testament to Severus’ skill in hiding him away, both a relief to Albus in light of the Death Eater activities which sprung up on occasion, but also a sad reminder that he’d been unable to protect the boy, that someone else had taken his place. If he’d been able to name anyone to be Harry’s protector, he could think of no one better than Severus.

The trinkets in his office which showed Harry’s well-being had ceased to work a week after the attack on Privet Drive; this Book was the only way he had to make sure the boy was still alive; the names of the dead would not appear.

‘Albus!’ The call was sharper now.

‘Yes, Minerva, I’ll be down in a minute.’

She tsked under her breath and left the room as Albus closed the book with a heavy sigh.

Harry Potter would not be coming to Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

**2nd September 1991**

  
 

** _HARRY POTTER: STILL MISSING_ **

** _Article by Eliza Lengleburt_ **

 

_Harry Potter fans received another blow today as the Boy Who Lived was not counted among the witches and wizards who yesterday arrived at Hogwarts School for the beginning of their schooling in magic._

_Although no word or trace of Harry Potter has been found since his disappearance almost two years ago, many still held out hope that Harry would arrive in time for his Sorting at Hogwarts._

_However, this hope has been dashed, with the first of September passing by with no word or sign of the Boy Who Lived._

_When questioned, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore could give no comment or reason for young Harry’s non-attendance at Hogwarts, and some have begun to question whether, in fact, the esteemed Headmaster actually knows the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived, and what it means for the Wizarding World if he does not._

_Petitions have flooded into the Magical Law Enforcement begging a renewal of the search for Harry Potter. MLE officials are to meet this week to discuss these requests._

_If any Daily Prophet reader has any concerns or queries, send an Owl to the Response Department._

 

* * *

 

**July 1992**

 

‘Minerva, you must come.’

Minerva opened the door to her rooms further, her hand clutching her tartan dressing gown closed at the throat. The sleep she had just been woken from fell away as her eyes took in Albus’ sombre expression, the dimmed twinkle in his eyes, and she knew it was serious. ‘Albus? What has happened?’

‘Quirrel is dead. He tried to take the stone,’ he informed her succinctly.

‘The stone!’ She gasped in horror, he hand coming up to cover her mouth - both for the death of a fellow professor, and for the news of the attempt to take the stone. ‘Is he… did he…’

‘The stone is safe, thank Merlin.’ Albus rubbed his eyes, his movements full of weariness. ‘The Aurors are on their way. There will be an investigation.’

Minerva nodded. ‘Albus - what happened?’

‘It was Voldemort,’ he said. ‘It appears Quirrel was unable to figure out a way to retrieve the stone from the Mirror of Erised, and Voldemort killed him as punishment.’

‘Do you know for certain it was him?’ She asked fearfully, something deep inside of her clenching and shrivelling at the prospect of the Dark Lord’s return. She’d lived through the war of Grindelwald, had fought in the First War against Voldemort, knew the horrors and the misery of them. It was no wonder she feared another.

‘Voldemort leaves a taint wherever he goes…it was him,’ Albus confirmed.

Minerva closed her eyes for one brief indulgent moment of despair, before pulling herself together once more, her features firming. ‘Why now? Why has he returned now?’

‘Ah, that I do not know. I suspect, however, he is looking to return, and saw the opportunity of the Philosopher’s Stone as too great to resist.’

‘He is not yet at full strength.’ Minerva pounced on that hope, like a lifeline.

Albus’ eyes looked saddened. ‘No, he is not yet. I do not doubt, however, that he will continue trying, and eventually he will succeed. We were lucky tonight, but we cannot rely on luck forever.’

Minerva was silent, understanding the terrifying implications of what the Headmaster was saying. They were interrupted by a small pop, a House-Elf appearing at Albus’ side, his pillowcase white, and embroidered with the Hogwarts crest.

‘Yes, Dimble?’ Albus asked politely, as always, knowing exactly the name of the Elf that had come to serve him in a way that Minerva had never understood, or could hope to emulate.

‘Headmaster sir, there be Aurors at the gates, and they be wanting to come in.’

‘Thank you, Dimble. Let them know I am on my way.’

The Elf bobbed its head and disappeared with an equally quiet pop.

Albus turned to Minerva. ‘I need to escort the Aurors. Will you join me as soon as you are able?’

‘Of course, Albus. I shall get dressed as quickly as possible.’

Albus inclined his head, and turned away to walk down the corridor. Minerva took a moment to watch him go, before shutting the door to her rooms, and hurrying to get ready.

 

* * *

 

**July 1992**

_The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 23,496_

_  
_

**_ HOGWARTS PROFESSOR BREAKS INTO SECRET CORRIDOR:  _ **

**_ Attempt to Steal Philosopher's Stone Thwarted! _ **

Article by Frederick Plunkett

_Aurors were called late last night to attend a death at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Quirrenus Quirrel, current professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, was discovered dead in one of the corridors of the school by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore._

_When questioned, the Headmaster related his part in the events of the night, saying: “I was attending a meeting with the Minister of Magic at the time of the incident. Upon being alerted to a disturbance in the wards around the school, I immediately left my meeting, and made my way to the source, whereupon I discovered the Professor’s body. He was dead when I arrived, and I undertook it upon myself to call the Aurors. The investigation is now in their capable hands.”_

_The corridor on which Quirrel was discovered has been revealed to have been the protected hiding place of the Philosopher’s Stone, the fabled work of Nicholas Flamel; the Stone was apparently removed from Gringotts’ Bank after a burglary scare, and placed in Hogwarts for safe-keeping. At this time, sources indicate that Quirrel was attempting to steal the stone at the time of his death, and may possibly have become the prime suspect of the attempted break in at Gringotts earlier in the year._

_Officials have yet to confirm or deny, but have released a statement acknowledging that his activities and death were “suspicious”, and that investigation continues._

_Fellow professor and Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had this to say about her former colleague: “While I am unable to comment on the rumours about his activities at the time of his death, I will say that although only here for a short time, he was a respected member of staff, and what he brought to both school and students will be missed.”_

**_Page 10 for interview with Nicholas Flamel: “The End to My Life’s Work”._ **

 

* * *

 

 

**July 1992**

 

‘And so it has begun.’

‘Severus?’

Severus lifted his head, hands folding the newspaper he had just been reading, even as his black eyes met the bright green gaze of his charge. The boy was standing in the doorway of his room, a large book in his arms. His expression was vaguely worried, and his front teeth chewed absently on his lower lip. On seeing him, Severus couldn't help but smile.

Two years they had spent together. Two years where they had virtually lived in isolation, with only the other for company. The first few weeks in the farmhouse had perhaps been the hardest, as both of them adjusted to their new circumstances, and searched for a level in which they could both feel safe and comfortable with the other. As time went on and they began to settle into the roles they had decided for themselves, their relationship had steadied, and for the most part, it had remained that way. There had been, of course, the occasional argument, over this, or because of that, but the knowledge that the other was perhaps the only person whom they could count upon always drew them back together. Severus taught and Harry learned - everything from Potions, Herbology and History, to Occlumency, Ancient Runes and physical combat. When he was ten, Severus had gone out and purchased a wand for him, illegal and unregistered. They had started spell-casting then, and Harry had shown great aptitude. Severus wouldn't have settled for anything less.

Being who they were, it was little wonder that Harry was more mature for his age than most other eleven-years-olds would be. Severus knew, as he had spent eight years teaching them. Sometimes, it had pained him, that he could not allow Harry to experience the freedom and joy only a child could have, but he had spent too long in fear, and had seen too much to find pleasure in the antics of fun and play. So it was that Harry shaped himself to become like the only other person he could model himself on: Severus. He grew serious, determined, studious. He grew up. How it was that he still managed to retain some compassion and belief in others still managed to baffle Severus. After learning what Harry's life had been like as a child with his Muggle relatives, he had thought that the boy would have turned out as cynical and hate-filled as many others had done. Over time, he learnt not to question it, and to just be grateful.

‘Harry,’ he greeted, and the boy walked forward, his smile disappearing as he caught the tired and anxious note in Severus’ tone.

He was still small for his age, and would most likely remain so, due to years of under-feeding. He looked smaller still in the too large clothes that he still wore. His body was beginning to fill out now though, from regular meals that they took it in turns to cook, and the exercise and training Severus put him through. There was little point in teaching him all he could if the first time he entered battle he was killed because he could not dodge quickly enough, or lost his wand.

Severus made a mental note to start the boy on wandless and wordless magic soon.

‘What is it?’

Severus turned his attention back to the Daily Prophet at the boy’s quiet words, and with a sigh, he held it out for Harry to see. Harry put his book down on the table before grasping the newspaper. He read the article quickly, green eyes flicking over the writing behind his glasses. When he was done, he lifted his head to look at Severus.

‘It was the Dark Lord, wasn’t it?’

Severus nodded, and lifted a hand to rub at his eyes.

‘What do we do now?’

He took a deep breath. ‘We do as we have been doing. We train, and we make sure that you know all you can before you must meet the Dark Lord, as you inevitably must.’

Rising to his feet, Severus made his way over to Harry, the green eyes following his movement. He came to a stop by Harry’s side, and looked down into the upturned face. He rested a hand briefly upon the boy’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the thin t-shirt, and squeezed, offering some small amount of comfort in the only way he knew.

 

* * *

 

**September 1992**

 

It had been going on for over a week now, and Severus was beginning to reach the end of his patience. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, the majority of the time, and over the last few years spent living with Harry, he had even mellowed a fair bit - after all, having one person be his only human contact for such a long time was bound to affect his behaviour. In his view, the demands he made were not unreasonable. Staying out of sight, keeping their presence hidden, learning various uses of survival - all were for their protection. The very reason behind their current state of seclusion were the resurrected activities of the Death Eaters, and even without that, the Dark Lord was stirring. Now was not the time to draw attention to themselves.

Now was certainly not the time to be keeping secrets.

And yet it was this last thing which Severus had picked up on the last few days. It had taken him almost two whole days before the niggling feeling in the back of his mind had translated into actual suspicion, whereupon he’d started actively making note of changes in behaviour. Harry was very good, it seemed, if it had taken Severus that long to notice something, but he wasn’t good enough for Severus not to have noticed his occasional disappearances, the tiny twitch of his lips just before he lied about his whereabouts.

Severus’ first response had been overwhelming anger. It had taken all of his effort not to express it, instead choosing to sequester himself in his labs and burn off his anger through potion making. Even then a cauldron, five vials, and a multitude of ingredients had suffered his wrath before his anger had eventually seeped out enough for him to return to rational thought. Clearly Harry felt he had something to hide, even though Severus had done his best to instil in Harry both the notion that keeping secrets from Severus wasn’t advisable, as well as the reassurance that there was no need to. He hadn’t been quite sure why the realisation that he had failed on both accounts left him so aggrieved, but after having assured himself that Harry must have a very good reason for this, and that he would very likely come to Severus in due course, he had best wait.

That decision had been made five days ago, and in the interim time, there had been no change in circumstances, other than Severus’ frustration growing. It was for this precise reason he was currently standing next to the door of Harry’s bedroom under a Disillusionment Charm, arms crossed over his chest, avidly listening to the scuffling sounds coming from inside Harry’s bedroom. It was early morning, barely half five, and therefore far too early for either of them to be up; Severus rarely insisted on such early starts, for Harry at least, though he himself sometimes took advantage of the time for the running of errands. Even so, there was no doubt that Harry was up and awake, and had been doing the same for the past few mornings, and it was nigh time that Severus found out just what was going on.

He stiffened ever so slightly as the door to Harry’s room opened, his gaze sharpening on the boy who emerged, who was dressed in his regular attire of trousers and jumper; he carried his trainers in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other. He glanced down the corridor to Severus’ room, his expression cautious, his teeth gnawing slightly on his bottom lip. Apparently determining it was safe, he started off down the hallway, shutting his door gently behind him. He padded across the floor on near-silent feet, reaching the stairs and starting downwards.

Severus followed him.

He was - had been - a spy. He’d perfected the art of silent movement, of keeping himself hidden and unnoticed. Spells might make such endeavours easier to accomplish, but there had been times when spells were an impossibility, when he he’d only his own skills to rely upon. A twelve year old boy was no match for him - especially one who had yet to be taught the stealth spells that Severus so excelled at.

Harry went to the kitchen first, and Severus watched in silence as the boy quickly rifled through the pantry, loading small morsels of bread, dried meat and dried fruits into the paper bag. That task having been finished, he moved quickly to the back door, put on his shoes, and grabbed one of the winter cloaks hanging from the pegs in the pantry, slipping it on, just as he slipped out of the back door.

It wasn’t strictly disallowed for Harry to leave the house. A large area of the surrounding land was included in ownership of the house, and therefore warded and protected by the Fidelus Charm. They were, for the most part therefore, protected even outside the house, and Harry had been allowed out on numerable occasions: both in Severus’ own company, for lessons outdoors, brief excursions to the local Muggle village for supplies, and also on his own, when he took the Pluto broom outside to fly. However, there was an understanding between them that Severus was to be informed of these outings. Sudden disappearances in their situation were a cause for concern, and once Severus found out the reason for this sudden breaking of the rules, he would have to make sure this point was once again clear in Harry’s mind.

It was September, and the temperature matched the time of year, especially this early in the day. Severus waited on the doorstep for a moment, watching Harry start striding off into the distance, before deftly casting both a warming charm upon himself, to counter the cold air, and one that would mask his footsteps in the dewy grass. He didn’t really expect Harry to be experienced enough to check behind him now that he had apparently attained his goal of getting out without notice, but it never hurt to take precautions.

They didn’t walk far - something which both surprised Severus and at the same time reassured him that Harry wasn’t taking his safety more foolishly than he had already done so. Harry headed straight for the small copse of trees near the back of the house, making his way through the trees and bushes along a path he had taken before. He rounded a corner, then suddenly disappeared from Severus’ view, prompting the man to draw his wand swiftly, and charge forwards, prepared for whatever might have occurred. He halted abruptly upon reaching the spot from which Harry had disappeared, his arm lowering as his fear of danger abated, and he took in the sight before him.

Harry was crouched down in a small slope in the ground, his back to Severus as he faced a fairly decent-sized gap between two large boulders. The gap was partially covered by leafy branches, the floor if it by piles of leaves and heaped moss, and nestled inside sitting on what appeared to be one of Harry’s old shirts, was an owl.

‘Hey girl,’ Harry said, cooing softly at her and reaching down to open the brown paper bag, fishing out some of the food he’d put in there earlier, and holding it out for the white bird to eat. She showed no fear at his presence, had no hesitation in accepting food straight from his hand, did not flinch when the boy raised a hand to stroke gentle fingers over her head.

Standing behind him, watching the scene, Severus was…touched. He didn’t think he had another word for it. All the anger and frustration from the last week seemed to drift away. An owl, just an owl, injured and in need of nursing. It didn’t explain why Harry had kept it from Severus, but Severus would come to that later. For now he whispered the spell that would make him once more visible, and stepped forward.

Harry’s head whipped around at the rustle and snap of foliage, and his wand was palmed immediately, just as he had been taught. He relaxed only marginally upon seeing who it was, in that his wand was lowered. His body remained tense, however, his expression at once both guilty and wary, and he shifted slightly so that the bird was more hidden from Severus’ sight.

‘She would be more comfortable back at the house, don’t you think, Harry?’ Severus said.

Harry looked briefly surprised. ‘I…you’re not angry?’

‘We shall discuss that later, Harry,’ Severus said firmly, and watched as Harry nodded with only a small hesitation, clearly unhappy about the postponement of their confrontation. ‘Will she allow you to carry her?’

Harry nodded, and under Severus’ quiet instruction managed to settle the owl into his arms, with her quite happily chomping on some leftover bacon. Severus helped him get up the slope with a hand on his back, Harry’s own occupied with carrying his burden. The bird was content enough to stay where she was while they returned to the house.

In the kitchen once more, Severus set about preparing things for their newest arrival. Harry sat at the table watching him anxiously as he collected newspapers and layered them into a basket he’d conjured from some spare string. Kindling became a tall bird perch, with compartments for food and water built into the stand, which he placed in the corner nearest the window. When he was finished with that, he sat down opposite Harry and stared out of the window, his hands clasped together under his chin.

He was no longer angry, he admitted to himself. Marginally concerned, yes, and perhaps even a little offended, but not angry.

He let out a small sigh and turned back to Harry, who was staring at him, seemingly torn between hunching down in his seat and brazening it out, one hand stroking over the owl now settled in his lap.

‘I am not angry with you, Harry.’

‘I thought you were,’ Harry replied quietly.

Severus nodded. ‘I was, to begin with. There are certain rules laid down for protection - both mine, and your own. To my mind, you were breaking those rules.’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ Harry said earnestly, his eyes beseeching.

Severus leaned forward slightly, as non-threateningly as he could. ‘Then why?’

‘I-’ Harry broke off, his eyes darting around the room quickly, before dropping to the table in front of him as his shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t know why,’ he said at last.

‘Why did you not want to tell me?’ Severus repeated.

‘Because I… because I thought you wouldn’t approve.’ Harry’s eyes glanced into Severus’ for the briefest second.

‘Of the owl?’ Severus’ eyebrows rose in surprise, before his expression settled into one of mild exasperation. ‘I would not begrudge you aiding an injured owl, Harry, or wishing to keep it as a pet. The fact that you kept it a secret from me, however, is of concern! I know this...’ he struggled for the word, ‘…confinement is not what you desired, and I know that at times it can be burdensome, and restrictive. I am deeply sorry for that, Harry, you must believe me.’

He sighed again, dragging one hand through his long hair in demonstration of the frustration that he could not help but feel. ‘I am trying my best, Harry.’

Harry appeared to be near tears when he replied. ‘I know, Severus. I’m sorry. I…wasn’t thinking. I just…. I just wanted something of my own.’

‘It’s all right, Harry. There’s no need to distress yourself. I can’t say I understand your reasons in this, but I would very much appreciate it if it does not happen again.’ His expression verged on uncomfortable. ‘As much as it pains me to say it, Harry, I am all you have at the moment, and you are all I have. I do care about what happens to you,’ he finished softly.

An unusual look crossed Harry’s face, one that Severus was unable to interpret.

‘I know,’ he stated simply.

Severus nodded sharply. ‘Then can I assume this won’t happen again?’

‘I promise, Severus.’

Something inside Severus eased ever so slightly, and he rose from the table. ‘Leave the owl in here for the moment. You may move her into your room this evening.’

‘Hedwig. Her name is Hedwig.’

Severus paused a moment. ‘Hedwig, then. Don’t take too long,’ he cautioned as he was leaving the room. ‘Your lessons will start shortly.’

His back turned to the kitchen, he did not see the thoughtful expression on Harry’s face as he watched the Potions Master leave.

 

* * *

 

**December 1992**

 

‘15 sickles an ounce, and I won’t go any lower!’

‘But Jensen…’

Harry’s attention wavered from the negotiations going on between Severus and the stall-holder, and he glanced down, scuffing his foot against the ground, so that the tip of his trainer dug a groove into the small amount of snow that had managed to settle during the night. He wasn’t often allowed to accompany Severus on one of his trips into the wizarding world, but he enjoyed them when the opportunity arose. He did, however, feel a bit guilty for the fact that this particular trip had arisen due to Hedwig being poorly, the cure for which Severus needed particular ingredients.

The Wizarding sector in Portsmouth, although not nearly as big as in London, nevertheless had a Market which would and could provide all the supplies they might require, with the added benefit of the two of them being far less noticeable away from the crowds of the capital, with fewer questions asked about their presence. Disguised as they were under Severus’ skilled spellwork, which altered various features just enough for them to look different than their real selves yet not look anything out of the ordinary, the chance of them being recognised for who they really were was slim; all the same, Severus preferred that their passing be as inconspicuous as possible.

It was a quiet sort of place, especially this early in the morning. The stall at which they stood was one of the few to have already set up along this stretch, and stood to one side of the main Market Square, the other three sides being taken up with more regular shop fronts, the kind expected from any high street: an apothecary, a robe and cloak store, an Owl service depot, a general all purpose store, a Floo port, and _The Gurgling Goblin_ , to name but a few. In the centre of the square stood a stone well, of simple design, and of no particular significance, as far as Harry could tell, since he could see no name plate or other sign indicating its origins or purpose. Likely a testament of old times, its reason long forgotten.

‘And a good day to you as well.’

Harry glanced over at Severus’ vaguely smug tone, to see the man - currently brown-haired and blue-eyed, with a fuller face and a smaller nose - walking towards him. Standing at the stall, the keeper looked ever so slightly displeased.

‘Done?’ Harry asked, trying not to startle as he spoke, his voice made deeper to go with his older appearance.

‘Yes. To “Penderell’s Pets”, now.’

Harry nodded, and deftly took his place beside Severus, keeping pace as they crossed the courtyard, going in the direction of the indigo painted corner shop, with the name of the shop stencilled in gold across the window. Through the glass Harry could see the movement of animals - flapping wings for the most part.

Before they entered the shop, Severus paused and looked down at him sternly. ‘Remember -’

‘You do the talking,’ Harry cut him off, quirking his lips into a mischievous grin. ‘I remember.’

‘Hmph,’ was Severus’ only reply as he pushed open the door, and they entered to the sound of a tinkling bell.

‘Can I look around?’ Harry questioned.

Severus nodded at him briefly, before swiftly striding over to the desk to begin conversing with the man who had just emerged from the back room of the shop.

Harry, meanwhile, wandered around the shop, glancing at the various cages and tanks that littered the place, even stroking the head of a purring Kneazle sleeping on the windowsill.

Conversation reached him as he was perusing one of the rows of shelves of animal care books and products, and though he knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, he couldn’t help but linger to hear more.

‘Oh do stop pushing! There’s barely any room in here at all without you squeezing your fat self into places you’re both unwanted and unwelcome!’

‘ _Fat_?! How can any of us be fat when we haven’t eaten in two weeks - which was _your_ fault, I might add, since you were the one who decided biting the errand boy was such a fabulous idea.’

His mouth turned up, his eyes lit by strong bemusement and curiosity, Harry ventured around the corner of the shelving unit, already expecting that he’d find no other people, and intensely desiring to know who the speakers then were.

‘He was poking at me! What did you expect me to - oh dear lord, this one had better not poke me as well!’

Halfway down the shelves, tucked in between books on one side, and a poorly house plant on the other, Harry found his mysterious speakers: two snakes, coiled around each other in a yellow tinted tank, filled with smooth pebbles and bits of bracken.

‘Well for goodness’ sake don’t bite him too! We’ll never get fed if you do!’

Harry grinned, utterly delighted at his find, and glanced over to the small label on the bottom right hand corner of the tank, which labelled the two snakes as being a common garden variety, only mildly venomous, but non-fatal to humans.

‘He’s staring at us. I don’t like it.’

‘Well don’t provoke him! Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.’

And with that, the two snakes summarily turned their heads away from Harry, and fell silent.

Harry glanced over to Severus, and seeing him alone by the counter, occupied with sifting through a selection of items before him, wandered over to him, in order to tell him about his find.

‘Severus, you’ll never guess what I just -’

Harry had never seen Severus jerk his head towards him so quickly, or the blood to drain straight out of his face in such a way. The older man even swayed slightly where he stood, slapping a hand to the counter in order to support himself.

Harry’s delight replaced by concern, he reached out a hand. ‘Severus? What’s wrong?’

‘ _Silence!_ ’ Severus barked at him, and Harry took a step backwards, as if the word were a physical blow, utterly confused at this alarming change of attitude.

Despite hearing the returning footsteps of the shopkeeper, and Severus’ stark expression, Harry still let loose another soft, pleading: ‘Severus…’

In response Severus jerked out his wand and muttered a hurried _silencio_ in Harry’s direction, before turning his attention back to the shopkeeper, who glanced between the two of them with a slight frown.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Perfect.’ Severus gave him a stilted smile. ‘Everything is quite all right.’

But as Harry watched Severus complete the negotiations on their purchases, standing hunched and confused, hurt and alone, he knew it wasn’t. Something had spooked Severus, something about him, spooked him like Harry had never seen before. He didn’t know what it was…and it scared him.

Later, when they returned back to the house, Severus removed the silencing charm, and explained to Harry all about the gift that was Parseltongue.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**June 1993**

  _The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 478001_

 

 

**_ WIZARD SIRIUS BLACK FOUND INNOCENT! TRAITOR PETER PETTIGREW BACK FROM THE DEAD! _ **

Article by Gordon Stetherwright

 

_The infamous Sirius Black, once believed to be You-Know-Who’s top man, has been found innocent of the crimes which saw him sentenced to life in Azkaban Prison._

_Sirius Black escaped from the prison last summer, by means still unknown, and avoided capture for several long months, until three days ago when Aurors were called to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_There they found Sirius Black with none other than Peter Pettigrew, one-time friend of Lily and James Potter, believed to have been killed by Sirius Black along with thirteen muggles in a most vicious attack. An inside source at the Ministry revealed that both men were taken into custody and were questioned under Veritaserum – and the terrible truth of that night was revealed. (see page 3: “TRUST and BETRAYAL, the TRUTH of the night the BOY WHO LIVED killed YOU KNOW WHO.”)_

_Once believed to be the Secret Keeper for the Potters and traitor, Sirius Black has been declared innocent, his Most Wanted Wizard status rendered void, and all his previous titles and belongings returned to him._

_"I am glad for the truth to finally be known,” the newly freed Mr Black told this very reporter on the day his innocence was declared by the Wizengamot. “I will be returning to my home in Grimmauld Place and reacquainting myself with the Wizarding World and my friends, before deciding where my future will lead.”_

_Peter Pettigrew, meanwhile, now discovered to be an unregistered animagus and the real Death Eater and traitor, has been sentenced to receive the Dementor’s Kiss, a week hence at noon at Azkaban Prison. His Order of Merlin medal has been stripped from him.  
_

_When asked, Mr Sirius Black said that he would not attend the carrying out of the Kiss._

 

**_Also see page 6 for Interview with the Weasleys: “What To Do When My Pet Rat Is Actually A Murderer”._ **

 

* * *

 

**June 1993**

 

‘Albus…’

His voice was raspy from disuse, his body and face still gaunt and pale from long months of running and hiding – in truth, from years of constant fear and pain in Azkaban. His blue eyes were somewhat wild, lingering madness in their depths, now fierce with desperation and longing as they looked upon the white-haired Headmaster.

‘Albus… I want answers.’

Albus sighed. ‘I know, my boy. I will give them to you, whatever you wish to ask. I have failed you so much.’

Sirius whipped a bony hand through the air, dismissing the elder wizard’s words. ‘I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to talk about _Harry._ Where is he, Albus, where _is he_?!’

Of course he would have read the newspapers detailing the young boy’s disappearance, the ongoing search that was called off years ago.

‘He is not here, Sirius,’ Albus told him sadly, his heart heavy, as it always was when he thought of Harry Potter.

Sirius’ eyes flashed with anger, and he sprung to his feet with bared teeth and an angry growl. ‘You were meant to look after him!’ he shouted. ‘You were meant to protect him!’

‘I know, Sirius, I know,’ Albus said softly, a whole world of guilt in his words. ‘I have failed him, just as I failed you.’

Sirius glared at him angrily, and then glanced towards the door. ‘I have to find him…’ he muttered.

Albus’ expression firmed, and his tone brooked no argument. ‘You must not,’ he ordered, a warning to the man, who now looked sharply back at him. ‘It would do more harm than good; you must leave it alone. He is alive, and he is safe, I can guarantee you that much. I will not allow you to endanger him in any way, as searching for him surely would.’

Sirius held his stare for a few seconds longer, blue eyes narrowed, before his gaze darted away and his shoulders slumped.

Albus’ expression softened slightly. He knew what it must feel like for this man, this broken man, to have lost so much, to yearn for something, only to be denied. And yet, thus it must be. He stepped forwards, laid a wrinkled hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezed.

‘We must believe he is well, and that he will return to us when the time is right.’

 _Right, and not too late_ , he thought grimly.

 

* * *

 

**June 1993**

 

‘Again, Harry. Expecto Patronum,’ Severus commanded, nodding for the boy to raise his wand again.

He did so, his face tight with concentration, his grip firm on his wand. ‘Expecto Patronum,’ he declared, and waved his wand. A small flicker of white mist appeared at the tip, but within seconds faded away. Harry let his wand arm fall, and Severus bit back a sigh.

Harry’s attempts to master the Patronus charm this week had started well, as Harry used Occlumency to find and hold a memory with which to power the charm; instead of improving though, as the week progressed he actually seemed to have become worse, and today had elicited the poorest performances yet.

Severus was finding it hard not to let loose his frustration. The Patronus charm was important – the Dark Lord had allied with Dementors in the past, and would surely do so again. If Harry could not defend against their debilitating powers, then he would stand no chance against their master.

He opened his mouth to instruct the boy to begin once again, but something in Harry’s eyes stopped him, and he held his tongue.

‘Harry,’ he said gently. ‘What is it?’

The boy’s eyes flicked upward. ‘Nothing,’ he denied quickly, but there was a guilty flicker in his expression.

Severus raised an eyebrow and simply waited; for all the years they had been together, his expression was just as effective as it had been at Hogwarts. Harry bit absently at his lip for a moment, then with a downturned mouth simply said: ‘I read about Sirius Black.’

Severus sighed softly. He should have known this conversation would soon come. He had always allowed Harry to read the articles and papers that he gathered and had never made any attempt to hide the truth from him – although the truth contained within such papers was questionable at best.

Regarding the matter of Sirius Black, he was unsure of what to tell the young teenager – in truth, he was still unsure what he himself felt about the articles that had appeared in the newspapers these last weeks: Sirius Black, returned to favour; Sirius Black, speaking of his hope to reunite with his godson.

Everyone had been so sure of Black’s betrayal, and Severus, who had hated him more acutely than most, had found it so easy to believe the worst – even though he’d been a Death Eater, even though he’d never even heard whispers of Black as being among the Dark Lord’s followers. He’d simply thought him a favoured and extremely competent spy – which was simply another reason to despise him.

To be faced with the prospect of the man’s innocence, and therefore false imprisonment in Azkaban for almost thirteen years, left a sour taste in Severus’ mouth. He’d only spent a month in those dank cells, and it had taken almost all of his not inconsiderable will to hold himself together. That Black had managed so long and his come out with a mind still mostly intact was something to respect.

Almost reluctantly, Severus turned his attention back to Harry. ‘What of him?’ he asked.

‘Is it true he’s my godfather?’

‘Yes,’ Severus answered.

Harry glanced out of the living room window, his gaze almost wistful. ‘It’s so strange, you know. For so long I thought I had no family, no one who cared for me, and then to find out it’s not true… to find out they loved me, and died for me, and to hear all the stories about them… And now I have a godfather; it almost feels too much.’

Severus remained silent, not knowing what to say. He’d known Harry was grateful for the memories and tales he’d managed to recall about Lily and the details of James’ life he’d recited, unsullied by Severus’ memories of him. He’d known Harry treasured them, and part of him was glad to have been able to give that to him.

Harry turned back towards Severus. ‘I’d like to meet him one day.’

Then there was the other part which ached at the realisation that he would always be inadequate when compared to James Potter and Sirius Black.

‘I am sure he would wish the same,’ he said neutrally. He slipped his wand away into the sleeve of his robe, suddenly feeling weary. ‘I think we’ve done enough for today.’

As he turned to leave, Harry called his name, and Severus glanced at him over his shoulder. The boy’s eyes were clear, and fixed on him.

‘You’ve never asked me what memory I use for my Patronus,’ he said.

No, he had not, for to ask was considered disrespectful in the Wizarding World, and for all he had traversed Harry’s mind and memories during the lessons of Occlumency, it had never occurred to him to cross that boundary.

He didn’t say that now, though, just held his breath and waited for Harry to continue.

Harry held his eyes as he said firmly: ‘I think of the night you took me away from the Dursleys.’

Severus had no response to that, so he gave none.

After a moment, Harry raised his wand again, and incanted ‘Expecto Patronum.’

A solid white shape exploded from his wand. 

 

* * *

 

**August 1994**

  _The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 569005_

**_ DARK MARK SPOTTED AT QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP: IS YOU KNOW WHO BACK? _ **

Article by Belinda Fleming

 

_Terror sparks anew at the sighting of the fabled Dark Mark at the finale of the Quidditch World cup, held in Britain this year, between Bulgaria and Ireland._

_During the after match celebrations, the hideous mark of He Who Must Not Be Named was spotted in the sky, following which a group of hooded wizards wreaked fear and havoc upon the innocent revelers – casting spells and curses until the Aurors arrived._

_None of the culprits were caught, and the wand used to the cast the spell never found, but Head Auror Gawain Roberts assures us of the Auror Department’s continued investigation into the matter._

_The incident brings to mind that day nearly five years ago when the Dark Mark was spotted above the home of Harry Potter, still missing._

_Is the resurgent activity a sign that Who Know Who is back? And if so, what will become of the Wizarding World without Harry Potter to protect us?_

 

**For more see:**

**Page 4 for “Who Know Who’s Return: Fact and Fiction”.**

**Page 8 for “The Story of Harry Potter’s Disappearance”.**

 

* * *

 

Severus frowned in consternation at the damnable article, his glance flicking down to his left arm. He tugged at the sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark emblazoned on his skin, and traced it with an idle finger. Since that day that Quirel had failed to steal the Stone, the mark had begun to darken; never quickly, never so deeply, that he would be surprised by it; after years, though, the difference was too great to ignore.

‘Is it hurting?’ A quiet voice asked from across the room.

Severus’ finger stopped its hypnotising movements, and he covered the mark once more with precise movements, before finally lifting his gaze to Harry. He stood still and straight in the doorway. He was somewhat gangly in the way that all teenagers were, but his body was lean, not thin as it had once been. His expression held a kind of seriousness and maturity that most children’s did not, and his air held a kind of relaxation and confidence; part his upbringing, more from the last several years by Severus’ side.

‘No,’ Severus said shortly, before a thought occurred to him. ‘Come here,’ he said, motioning to the space in front of him.

The teenager didn’t hesitate, coming to stand before Severus’ chair easily, and Severus tugged him forwards, his hand brushing aside the messy hair that no amount of brushing could tame, revealing the jagged scar.

He ran a finger over it, felt Harry shudder under his touch, but paid it no mind.

Still frowning slightly, he removed his hand, and sat back in his seat, watching as Harry straightened and flattened his hair over his forehead once more.

‘It is redder than it was,’ he commented.

Harry nodded. ‘Yes, I noticed a few nights ago.’

‘Have you been having any strange dreams? Pain?’

Harry shook his head.

‘Have you been practicing your Occlumency?’

‘Of course,’ Harry replied, tone somewhat offended.

Severus hummed under his breath, knowing that Harry wouldn’t forget such a vital defence. He folded up the newspaper and set it aside.

Harry glanced at it, eyes flicking over the headline and the pictures of the Dark Mark in the sky.

‘You think he’s becoming stronger,’ he said softly, able to follow Severus’ thoughts almost as if they were his own now. It was satisfying how sharp he had become, how much he had molded himself to Severus’ teaching; quick and clever and cautious, yet still retaining enough of his own optimism and personality for it not to be stifling.

Severus nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I think he is. However, I do not have enough information – just gossip in rags,’ he said with disgust.

‘Will you contact Dumbledore?’ He asked matter-of-factly.

Severus hesitated before answering. He’d attempted to keep his contact with Dumbledore to an absolute minimum over the years; a simple missive sent every few months, detailing the purported adventures of Severus Snape as he traveled the world on a pilgrimage of knowledge. It was a cover for his absence almost as much as it was a reassurance of their continued survival and well-being. The charms to send the missives were complicated and untraceable, and no information was said which could lead to discovery of the truth.

At times he wondered if it would have been more prudent to cut off contact completely, but he dismissed those thoughts, knowing logically that maintaining Albus as an ally was more paramount than his own paranoia. He intended to return to the Wizarding World with Harry, when the time was right. If he’d stayed silent, who knew to what lengths Albus might have gone to track them down; for all the old man would realise the importance of keeping them hidden, he was too meddling to let them escape completely.

And then, there might come a time when they needed Albus, for information or for aid.

But he didn’t think now was yet the time.

‘No,’ he told Harry. ‘We will bide our time a little while longer. Promise me that you will come to me the moment something changes, or something unforeseen occurs. We must be vigilant, always.’

‘Always,’ Harry repeated, voice a whisper.

 

* * *

 

**November 1994**

 

A scream pierced the quiet of the house, followed by a crash, and Severus jerked up from his seat in the living room, the book he was reading falling to the floor in his haste to rise, his right hand reaching for his wand without conscious thought, so well had he trained himself.

He left the room, swift yet still cautious, his wand raised and his footsteps soundless. A wordless spell located Harry in the kitchen, alone, and it was here he went, nudging open the door with wand lifted to attack or defend as needed.

Nothing was amiss in the room, except for Harry, who lay huddled on the floor beside the kitchen table, whimpers falling from between his lips, eyes clenched shut, while his hands were clamped to his forehead. Next to him were the remains of a china bowl, shattered upon the floor with its contents spilled.

Severus dropped down beside him without a thought, vanishing the bowl and food with a quick word.

‘Harry, can you hear me?’

Another whimper.

Severus swore under his breath, outwardly calm but inside full of alarm. He had never seen Harry in this state before, and he dreaded the cause.

‘Harry, move your hands; I need to see,’ he ordered brusquely.

Harry let out a groan and a shudder, but obeyed all the same, lifting his hands away from his face; they came away coated in blood, and Severus felt another jolt of fear strike through him. They’d looked at his scar and its connection to the Dark Lord in the earlier days of their comradeship. It was dark and complex magick, one that tied the two together, a reason why Severus had taught the boy Occlumency at the first opportunity.

‘Harry, I need you to Occlude, to close your mind,’ he said, and his voice did not shake.

One of Harry’s hands found his, and he held it, clenched tightly together as Harry’s breath hitched, falling into the breathing pattern which Severus had taught him long ago.

Severus spoke soothing words, the instructions for emptying the mind and closing off thoughts.

After several tense moments, Harry’s hand released Severus’ and his eyes opened; they were swimming with unshed tears and lingering pain, but he was coherent. Severus breathed a sigh of relief, helping Harry up to sit, his hands brushing over his shoulders and arms, reassuring himself he was well.

He used his wand to summon a calming draught from his store, along with a pain reliever, using the time it took Harry to compose himself to unstopper the latter and pass it to him.

‘Drink,’ he ordered.

Harry did, and Severus waited while he gulped it down, muttering a spell to clear away the blood that coated Harry’s hands and forehead.

‘Thanks,’ the boy said weakly, his breath still following the calming pattern of Occlumency.

‘Tell me,’ Severus demanded.

Harry raised his eyes to meet him, the green orbs suddenly dark, his pale features tense.

‘It was _him_ ,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘They brought him back.’

‘How?’ he asked, through numb lips, and Harry told him.

Later, when explanations were finished and Harry was settled in bed, dosed with Dreamless Sleep, Severus sat alone in the living room, and glass of Firewhisky in his hand. He took a sip, hoping the burn of the drink would wash away the burn of the mark on his arm.

He was being called, but he would not answer.

The Dark Lord had regained corporeal form once more and was gathering his Death Eaters to him. It would not be long before he reached full strength again, and then his attack on the Wizarding World would begin anew.

Despite knowing this would always happen, despite waiting for it, Severus felt a chill run through him, and he closed his eyes for a long moment, reaching for the strength that he knew he would need to get them through this.

 

* * *

 

Albus gazed at the people in front of him, all familiar faces and dear to him in their own ways. They looked expectantly at him now, and he wished he could maintain the confidence and hope in their eyes, but knew it was not always possible. 

‘I have news,’ he told them gravely, ‘the reason for which you have all been gathered once more.’

Their eyes flicked to one another, around the room. They were the Order of the Phoenix, old members and new, gathered here in Grimmauld Place’s dusty kitchen, all because he had called them. They could guess the reason they had been called, but none of them would fully understand until he told them.

Even he had not fully believed the letter that had arrived in his office, just a few hours before, a letter which told of a boy who’d had a vision, and a diary which had restored a monster.

Still, he knew it was the truth.

‘Voldemort has returned,’ he announced, and the room erupted into exclamations and mutters.

Over the next two hours, he answered their questions as best he could, reassured them as best he could, and made plans and provisions for the near future and what all knew awaited them. Information would be gathered, allies sought, and they would have to prepare.

The inevitable questions of Harry arose, of course, as they always would.

‘How are we going to defeat Who Know Who without him?’

‘Do you still not know where he is?’

‘We must make another search.’

It pained him to answer them, of course, just as it pained him that Harry wasn’t here, and it pained him that Severus was not here.

Still, what was, was, and he would continue to do his best.

They had placed their faith in him, and he would have to place his faith with Severus.

They would prevail; he dared not think otherwise.

 

 

* * *

**June 1995**

**_The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 689556_ **

**_ VICTOR KRUM WINS TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR DURMSTRANG! _ **

Article by Nicola Hennock

 

_Following a nail-biting year of no-end thrills and more than a few blood spills, Victor Krum, star seeker for Bulgaria, has been named the Tri-Wizard Champion of 1994, narrowly beating fellow Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory._

_After a stellar performance in the tournament’s final task – a maze of dark creatures and darker dangers - Krum emerged victorious, golden cup in hand, to a triumphant chorus from the spectators._

_The humble student brushed off the praise awarded him by his fans, citing his good schooling as the secret of his success._

_Britain and Hogwarts may be disappointed not to win, but close-second Diggory had this to say: “It was good fun, and Krum deserved the cup; he’s a good guy. We’ll thrash them next time, though!”_

_Them’s fighting words!_

  

* * *

 

**September 1995**

 

‘He’s been too quiet.’

Severus didn’t answer Harry’s comment straight away, concentrating on stirring the contents of the saucepan in front of him. He’d learned to cook from his mother, and despite his years in the Wizarding World, something never felt right about using magic to create food. It would do in a pinch, but it wasn’t the same.

‘Table,’ he said, and Harry immediately rose to fetch the plates and cutlery from their places in the kitchen, setting up the table without further comment or complaint, his usual task when Severus cooked.

A few more moments and he deemed it done, setting aside the wooden spoon and picking up his wand to turn down the heat. He levitated the saucepan over to the table, Harry laying down a heat-proof mat below it just before Severus set it down.

He’d also poured glasses of water for them both, and Severus’ elderflower cordial. Severus sat down, and the two of them served each other from the bowls of food, Harry slicing the meat, Severus pouring the sauce and scooping vegetables.

How very domesticated they had become, he thought to himself, which produced a funny feeling in his gut – a mix of discomfort, and yet strange satisfaction.

It was odd, but this was their home, and this was their life. For the moment, anyway.

‘It’s been almost a year,’ Harry took up the thread of his previous conversation. ‘He hasn’t done anything. A few Death Eater sightings, a few muggles scared, but nothing huge.’

Severus finished his mouthful and took a sip of his water. ‘He’s biding his time,’ he finally said. ‘He has returned after almost fifteen years of wandering this world as a spirit. He is attempting to gain strength, to build up his base of power, to recruit, I have no doubt. He will not tip his hand before he is ready.’

‘Then isn’t now the time to go after him?’ Harry queried, and there was bravado there, but still an honest question looking for an honest answer, a matter up for debate, not action without thought. Severus could only be thankful he had steered Harry along those paths, rather than reckless Gryffindor behaviour.

He pondered the question for a moment, weighing up the different sides of the argument. He looked at Harry, tried to be objective about his chances against the Dark Lord.

Harry was an above-average wizard in power, and he had spent the last years training hard with Severus, soaking up knowledge of the Wizarding World, learning all the spells and skills that Severus had to teach him. Severus had intimate knowledge of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, and viewed himself as one of the most qualified to teach Harry how to survive against them, but no matter how life-like he made their lessons, how vigorous and dangerous their duels, the fact remained that Harry had no practical experience in what it was actually like to fight a grown-wizard intent upon his death.

The fact remained that Harry was still only fifteen.

Severus was loath to allow him to go up against the Dark Lord. For all his years of experience, he wouldn’t be keen to go up against him himself, so how could he justify sending Harry?

There was also that lurch in his stomach at the thought of Harry in such a vulnerable position; he was training him for that purpose, true, but there was still so much he needed to teach him.

‘No,’ he answered at last. ‘For all that he may seem weak, there is no guarantee of that, and it would be foolish to strike without knowing the full truth of his strength and power. If we wait, he may grow in power it is true, but so will you.’

‘Hm,’ Harry hummed, although whether he was agreeing or objecting, Severus couldn’t tell. He thought he could surmise what lay at the heart of Harry’s discontentment.

‘Do you believe you are ready to face him?’

Harry looked down at his half-finished plate, prodding his fork at the chicken absently. His teeth nibbled at his bottom lip, and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. A few moments let he let out a gusty sigh, meeting Severus’ eyes once more, gaze serious behind the glasses he still wore.

‘No,’ he said honestly, almost sadly.

Severus could understand that too. They’d been in hiding almost five years, with only the odd excursion into the real world. It was no way to live, and Merlin knew how many more years it would take for Harry to be ready?

Severus nodded, acknowledging Harry’s assessment of his own position.

‘I think there is something we could do, though,’ he said. ‘There is one piece of information it is imperative that we have, and perhaps it would have behoved us to acquire it before now.’

‘What’s that?’

Severus folded his arms on the table in front of him, pushing aside his plate for the moment.

‘The full prophecy,’ Severus answered.

Harry’s eyes sharpened with interest. ‘How?’

It had always been a vague thought at the back of his mind, something to take care of at a later stage. The need had never been in doubt, but the ways were slightly more in question.

The simplest method would be to seek out the memory of the man who had witnessed the prophecy: Albus. That the headmaster would be willing to impart the knowledge was certain, Severus was sure, but something about seeking him out did not sit well with him. There were dangers associated with meeting the older wizard: the Dark Lord was undoubtedly watching him, and as powerful as he was, it meant he tended not to heed caution as others might, and leading danger to them was not something that Severus would allow.

Furthermore, there was the use of a memory itself. No memory was untainted by the one experiencing it, and with something as important as a prophecy, to have it coloured with emotion and expectation might alter the knowledge gained.

There was another concern associated with seeking out Albus. It was only a niggling worry, but enough to make Severus hesitate. Severus had always known Albus’ interest in Harry ran to the extreme: he wanted to keep him safe, he wanted to teach him, all that was true, but if given half the chance, Severus knew also that Albus would have no hesitation in doing whatever was necessary to ensure the right ends were met – _his_ right ends.

In spite of their trust and friendship, Severus had known all along Albus was using him, and he had allowed it, as it gave him protection and favour – he’d allowed it, but never forgotten it.

He did not want Harry to fall into Albus’ hands.

Albus had not sought them out thus far, and even if Severus would have made it as hard as possible, there had always been a chance he might.

It was strange how Severus would not trust Harry with Albus – with anyone in fact. He only trusted himself to keep him safe; the weight of that thought might have crippled a lesser man, but Severus took it as his duty, a promise to a friend he’d lost.

‘Severus?’

Severus shook his head slightly, letting darker thoughts slide back into the recesses of his mind where they belonged, turning instead to the functional planning.

‘I believe with some effort, and practice, we should be able to retrieve the prophecy record from the Ministry itself. We shall need to experiment, and we shall need to increase your excursions into public.’

Harry nodded, both serious and yet excited by this new aspect in their training. It was something that Severus should have seen to earlier, and he rebuked himself mildly for that.

He would continue to keep Harry safe, for Harry’s sake, for Lily’s, but for his own too.

 

* * *

 

**October 1995**

 

Severus ducked around the corner of the building, a flick of his hand motioning Harry to precede him. Once the boy passed, Severus cast a Notice-Me-Not charm the way they had come; it was a simple spell, but perfectly effective when used correctly, especially when attempting to put a pursuer off their trail who had lost line of sight.

Ahead of him, Harry had tucked himself away into one of the small alcoves that lined this particular corridor, and was watching Severus with serious green eyes, his wand in hand.

Severus squeezed into the tight space, saying quietly, ‘We wait until the midnight bell, and then we return to the Apparition point and make for home.’

Harry nodded in understanding, and Severus raised his wand to tap lightly on first his own, then Harry’s head, activating a silent Disillusionment Charm. Now hidden from view, Severus allowed himself to relax – but only marginally. While he was confident that no one had noticed their late night foray into the Ministry, nor were they being followed, it was not in his nature not to be prepared for any eventuality, and he rarely trusted a mission if it went too smoothly.

Since the decision to retrieve the Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, he and Harry had began their preparations, tonight being one of the first major excursions with the intent on retrieving the list of Ministry staff who were employed by the Department of Mysteries. Of course, that kind of information was considered highly confidential and on a need-to-know basis, but if there was one department which would have that information, it was the Department of Wages and Finances.

Much of the Ministry operated on a day rota, but there were a few departments which had evening and night shifts, and with disguise spells in place, Severus and Harry had infiltrated one of the incoming shifts in order to enter the Ministry building, before veering away to where they needed to be. A quick survey of the office, some code-breaker hexes, and they’d obtained the list of employees they needed.

All that was left now was to wait for the midnight bell which announced the end of the late shift, so they could slip away undetected. If Severus thought hard about it, he would have despaired at the security of the Wizarding Government, but since this was currently to their benefit, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

The Department of Mysteries was undoubtedly going to require more finesse.

He glanced down as Harry shifted before him, the teenager’s body brushing against his chest as he shuffled in the spot. Even though the face was not the one Severus was used to seeing, the expressions were all Harry’s, and at this moment in time, the prominent expression was discomfort, Harry’s white teeth biting softly into his lip.

‘Are you ill?’ Severus demanded in a low whisper. ‘Is it your scar?’

Without asking for permission, Severus reached out and grasped Harry’s face in his hands, tugging the boy forward and whispering a spell which would allow him to feel through the disguise to Harry’s true form beneath. His fingers pressed against the lightning scar, but could feel nothing out of the ordinary, and he lowered his gaze to Harry’s eyes.

His Legilimency, always instinctive, and always so close to the surface of his mind, erupted forth – and Harry, Harry who knew Occlumency, but whose mind was so familiar to Severus’ that he could pass those barriers like a whisper in the wind, could not hide the thoughts that crowded the forefront of his mind.

Severus saw himself through Harry’s eyes, felt his own body as it was pressed against Harry’s and Harry’s response to it – desire igniting in his young limbs and burning his blood. That thought threaded to others –

_Severus in the loose white shirt he often wore for dueling practice, his long white throat revealed – Severus – his long fingers at work with ingredients and potions tools, touch delicate and light -– Harry lying in his bed, gasping Severus’ name as his hand moved frantically over his cock to thoughts of Severus’ hands on his bodyneckchestthigh – black eyes burning with want and need as they gazed upon him –_

‘No!’ Harry gasped in dismay as he wrenched his gaze away from Severus, but those few seconds was all it took for the images to sear themselves into Severus’ mind, and he could do nothing except stare at Harry, dumbfounded. A tiny moment of stillness as emotion rocked through his core, as something shifted deep inside him - too many things, too quick to decipher. His hands were still on Harry’s face, and he tore them away as if the teenager’s skin burned him, body instinctively wishing to take a step away but unable to in the confined place. His eyes were still focused on Harry, although Harry’s own were no longer meeting his, his face turned away and his whole body tense.

The silence between them held, long and heavy, and when fifteen minutes later the midnight bell rang, it was Harry who nullified the Disillusionment Charm and ducked out of the alcove first, while Severus followed behind him.

Actually leaving the Ministry went without hitch, which was just as well, as Severus was more than a little distracted. The pair said nothing to each other until the door of Birkbeck Farm closed behind them and their disguises were spelled away. In the hallway, Harry, now with his normal features restored, looked at him imploringly.

‘It’s too much to hope we can just…not discuss it?’ he asked softly, desperately.

Severus shook his head. ‘I can’t allow that, Harry.’

With a look of trepidation, Harry entered the front room, setting himself down gingerly on the couch, his body tense and making it clear he wished to be anywhere but here, having this conversation.

Severus felt much the same. He took a seat on a chair opposite Harry, unsure where to begin.

When Harry had come into the first stages of puberty aged twelve, Severus had explained the process to him as methodically and educationally as he had done for numerous Slytherins during his time as Head of House. Once Harry had understood the basics, Severus had thought no more of it, simply offered him the privacy a teenage boy growing into his body and sexuality required, making no comment on stained bed sheets, or lengthy showers, and respecting a closed door.

The arrangement had worked well, and Harry had never sought him out with further questions, so Severus thought that would be that.

In hindsight, he realised that he had based much of his assumptions on his own adolescence; as an awkward boy with ill-favoured appearance, he had never been an object of interest to others – especially not sexually. His only appeal had been his skills at spell-casting and potions, and he had taken advantage of that in his youth, trading his skills for sexual favours, but all too soon the attraction had faded, and then he’d been embroiled in war, and spying and teaching, and his desires had faded, had become unimportant. Even now he could not recall when he had last sated his own desires, let alone sought out a companion for the same.

He’d been foolish to think Harry would be the same – in fact, he’d been foolish in not giving it a thought at all.

He should have anticipated this, he thought idly. Harry was a teenage boy, trapped in a lonely house in a lonely part of the world, with only one person as his companion. How would he not have developed these interests, these feelings? There was no one else.

He sighed softly, opening his mouth to begin the delicate process of curbing the boy’s interests in him in a way that would not affect their working partnership – but Harry spoke first.

‘I didn’t mean for you to find out,’ he spoke in a low voice, his eyes downcast and his arms crossed defensively over his stomach. ‘I know that I’m not…that you wouldn’t want me – I understand – and I won’t be offended if you just forget about it, and we can never mention it again.’ He ended abruptly, and still he would not meet Severus’ eyes.

Severus’ previous words died in his throat. Despite Harry offering him the exact solution that he himself had wished to propose, he found that he couldn’t agree to something so callous, even for the sake of his own comfort.

‘Harry,’ he began carefully, trying to make his voice as gentle as he could, knowing that it wasn’t natural for him. ‘You are a fine, young man. Your – desirability, for lack of a better word – is not in question. Anyone would be fortunate to have you as a partner.’

Harry’s smile was tinged with sadness, and when he glanced up, his green eyes were darkened by it also. ‘Anyone but you, you mean?’

Severus’ gut clenched and he swallowed awkwardly. ‘You’re still so young.’

‘Now, perhaps, but I won’t always be,’ Harry said simply, and there was that fierceness that Severus expected from him, far more natural than his earlier meekness.

Still, he shook his head. ‘It would be wholly inappropriate. I am all you have known for almost seven years now…you have yet to truly experience the world and all it has to offer.’

It was the truth, and Severus would not – could not – take advantage of that.

‘And what if I don’t want the world? What if I want you?’ Harry returned stubbornly.

‘Harry…’ he said again, as if repeating the name would sort his thoughts and bring some kind of order to the dilemma that had suddenly overcome him. What could he say to persuade him this would be a terrible idea? His lips thinned, but before he could argue further, Harry spoke again.

‘I love you,’ Harry confessed, his eyes shining with defiance, his words a challenge to fight or accept.

‘You can’t,’ Severus denied instinctively, a flutter of panic clawing at this throat.

Harry’s jaw firmed. ‘You don’t get to decide that.’

As if he could read his mind, Harry shook his head, leaning forward, his gaze now determined. ‘I know my own mind, Severus, and what I want – you’ve made sure of that, and don’t deny it. Severus, it’s been _six years_. You’re everything to me.’ His voice broke slightly at the end, but his eyes held firm, his gaze direct on Severus. ‘You can reject _me_ ,’ Harry continued, ‘but you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t feel, not about this.’

Harry’s words were heartfelt and raw, filled with more emotion than Severus had ever expected the boy to feel for him, and Severus found himself stunned by them, a feeling of helplessness washing over him.

 _You don’t know what love is,_ the thought came to him, quickly followed by, _but neither do I…_

On what authority did he have to cast judgement on Harry’s feelings? A childhood infatuation with Lily Potter? He had no more experience than Harry in those tender feelings.

‘You deserve more than me,’ he whispered.

Harry’s face gentled, and before Severus could react, he was on his knees before him, his hand reaching out hesitantly to grip Severus’ wrist; his touch was like a molten brand against his skin, the tiny tremors the only indication of his nerves.

‘You don’t get to decide that either,’ he told him softly, yet firmly.

Severus stared down at him with new eyes – this boy-man, full of strength and fight, whom Severus had trained, had raised, for whom he would do everything in his power to see grow into a man, even give his life.

Harry’s fingers stroked gently along his palm, as if instinctively sensing Severus’ growing weakness. ‘I’m not asking for much, Severus. Just…don’t brush it aside. Will you at least consider it?’ he pleaded.

 _I shouldn’t_ , the voice inside his head whispered, _I can’t._

So much of his past, present, future was entwined with Harry’s, what was another link between them? What was another mark on his soul?

He closed his eyes.

‘Yes.’

If he was damned, why not be damned to the full.

 

* * *

 

It was a few hours before dawn, and Severus was still awake, occupying himself with mindless chores in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning the dishes from earlier – although there was little to clean, as after their foray into the Ministry and the conversation that followed, unsurprisingly neither he nor Harry had been overly keen for food. When there was nothing left to clean, he gave into the inevitable and made his slow way to the first floor, to his bedroom, where he began the routine of preparing for bed – changing into his night clothes and brushing his teeth.

Harry had gone to bed – his own – but Severus could not find peace, despite the mundanity of his tasks or his Occlumency, things which normally worked to quiet his racing thoughts, but which had no impact tonight.

Harry had asked him to consider, and so here he was, considering, but what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure.

To consider Harry’s confession of love, which in itself was both remarkable and yet preposterous – or would be, except Harry did not lie, not to Severus, not since he was twelve and had concealed Hedwig from him. Severus might have been able to convince himself that Harry’s love was of a platonic kind, except for those images he had seen in Harry’s mind, images that were sexual and explicit, and not at all the kinds of thoughts that he should be entertaining.

Except he had. Except he was.

In the mirror above the sink, his reflection was the same as it was every morning: the harsh angles of his face even now marred with a frown, his hair shapeless and lank, his nose overlarge, his lips thin. There was nothing appealing there – nothing that would explain Harry’s infatuation; it would almost be easier to accept if it was appearance which had drawn the young man’s attention – for that was likely to fade as superficial fancies often did.

Yet, Harry had found something of worth in him, had chosen him as the recipient of his feelings and wants and his wish for a relationship, and it was what – that which Severus had to consider.

He was not a paedophile, not a child-molester – the thought was abhorrent to him! Never once had he considered any of his students in such a way or paid mind to those few who had shown undue interest in him.

He could console himself that he had never encouraged Harry in his desires, but it was little comfort when they had arisen all the same, and he must make a decision.

He grimaced and turned from the mirror, quickly washing his hands and stepping into the hallway where he found himself pausing before the door to Harry’s room.

He had spent seven years being what Harry needed – a protector, a mentor, a teacher, a companion… and now Harry wished him to be a lover.

Should he?

Could he?

Harry was stubborn, and for all his words of forgetting, they had been borne of embarrassment, and Severus knew that if he denied Harry this without good reason – without a reason that Harry would accept – he would not let this lie. Perhaps, if Severus had been harsher in his rejection, and had not foolishly agreed to consider the proposal, he would have had more cause to ignore his feelings; it was too late for that, though. Severus could imagine how Harry would pursue the issue in his own innocent yet determined way – grind down his resistance until he eventually gave in, and what use was delaying the inevitable if that were the case?

And if Severus gave in, what then? He had given himself over to far more unpleasant things in his life than becoming the lover of a young, magically talented wizard. He cared for Harry enough, and his desires were fluid enough, that he could offer it to him, and as long as he only took his lead from Harry, allowed the other to direct their involvement and encounters, then he would never be accused of taking advantage. If he could protect himself in that way, see that some of Harry’s innocence was maintained, then when the time came for Harry to finally take his place in the Wizarding World, and his interests waned, Severus would be able to let him go without guilt or regret.

The thought of Harry with another left a sudden sour taste in his mouth, but he’d always known the time would come when he and Harry would have to leave behind this sanctuary of theirs, when he would have to share him with the world – and he would let him go, because that was the only way he could accept Harry’s offer.

He must.

With his decision made, some peace came at last to him, and he took the final few steps to his room, slipping into his bed with a whispered spell to warm the sheets.

He would wait a few days before he told Harry and set out his terms, and then…then they would see.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I'm back. Firstly, I want to give my thanks to everyone who has continued to read and comment on this story over the last year. It's been a bit of a difficult one and I haven't had much inspiration or inclination to write, but in the last few weeks I've slowly been getting back into it, and this is one of the stories I am focused on finishing. 
> 
> A practical note: I have made some changes to Chapter One. I dislike doing this when chapters have already been posted, but I also dislike the canon error more, and feel that the ten years' difference from the first chapter to now allows for some changes on my part!
> 
> The initial Death Eaters involved in the plot to kidnap Harry remain Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair, however Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood are incarcerated in Azkaban at that point in time, and so I've replaced them with Theobold Nott and Julius Avery. It doesn't change anything in terms of plot up to now, however is relevant to the current chapter.

**January 1996**

**_The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 7009871_ **

 

**_MASS BREAKOUT OF AZKABAN!_ **

_Article by Rita Skeeter_

 

_The Ministry of Magic has announced that a mass breakout of Azkaban Prison took place late last night. Ten high security prisoners have escaped and are now Most Wanted by the Department of Aurors._

_In an interview this morning, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has asked citizens not to panic, and that he has “full faith in the Auror Department in returning these criminals to their rightful place.”_

_Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour had this to say: “We will do everything in our power to apprehend these dark witches and wizards. An Alert Hotline has been set up, and anyone who has any information that can aid the investigation, please contact us as soon as possible.”_

_When asked whether the breakout had any relation to several recent Death Eater sightings and rumours of You-Know-Who’s return, Scrimgeour said: “We do not believe there is any connection at this time, but will investigate any and all leads.”_

_We will keep you updated on the latest news._

_For more see:_

 

**_Page 2 - “The Ten Escapees: What You Need to Know”_ **

 

* * *

 

  **June 1996**

They stood at the entrance of the Hall of Prophecy, the fabled room within the Department of Mysteries which contained records of every prophecy spoken within the Wizarding World; the church-like room was filled to the rafters with shelf upon shelf of the small orbs. The amount of knowledge contained therein must be vast, from meaningless gibberish to words that could change the world. Prophecies were a tricky thing – they only had meaning and were given meaning by those who believed in them, like the Dark Lord, like Albus Dumbledore.

‘There are so many of them,’ Harry whispered, both in awe and dismay, for how were they to find the one they needed amongst all these?

‘Point me Harry Potter prophecy,’ Severus incanted, and his wand spun on the palm of his hand until still, and he felt a small tug in the direction of the left hand side of the room.

‘It should not take overlong,’ Severus reassured him. The pair set off with Severus leading the way and Harry only steps behind, his wand out and prepared; they did not expect any disruption – they had timed their infiltration on the night the Keeper of the Hall was on leave, and the monthly Department Meeting was being held in the Higher Levels. It was still prudent not to remain longer than absolutely necessary.

The Point Me spell took them along the rows until the blue flame of the torch lit number ninety-three; only a short way along, his wand shuddered on his palm, indicating they had arrived at their destination. He cast Lumos and Harry stepped to his side, shoulder brushing against his, and they looked at the shelf before them where a little glowing orb held the words that had dictated Harry’s life from before his birth.

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D

Dark Lord and

(?)

**Harry Potter**

‘Go on,’ he prompted, seeing Harry hesitate beside him.

The young teen glanced up at him as if seeking strength, before he reached out and closed his fingers around the prophecy. He lifted it from its setting, leaving clear patches in the dust that covered the shelf. Its glow strengthened the moment it touched his hand – the prophecy orb recognising its subject.

Harry held it gingerly, his expression somewhat trepid. ‘Do we look at it now or take it with us?’ he queried in a whisper.

‘It’s best to view it now; I guarantee this hall is designed to alert the Keeper should an orb be removed,’ Severus answered.

Harry nodded, and with a soft word activated the orb. Within the glowing depths, a figure swirled into existence, a woman with large glasses and long curled hair, a shawl draped around her shoulders. Her voice, when she began to speak, was deep and melodious, the familiar words of her prophecy spilling into the silence between them.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...._ "

As the prophecy reached its conclusion, the orb dimmed, once more a glass sphere in Harry’s hand, and Severus was left to ponder the words which had shaped so many lives – Harry’s, Albus’, his own…

If the Dark Lord had let it be, had not hunted Harry and marked him, the words would have been meaningless.

Instead…

‘It makes things pretty clear, doesn’t it?’ Harry said quietly, and Severus bit back a grimace at his tone – something between resignation and horror which mirrored his own feelings.

He had known that the only way that Harry would be safe was if the Dark Lord were defeated, and had always known of Harry’s special role within that task, but a secret power? Harry’s hand the one to deliver the killing blow?

His sharp mind struggled to comprehend the particulars, even as he knew now was not the time for it.

‘Should we destroy it?’ Harry asked softly, his hand clenching around the little glass sphere.

It would be so easy to shatter it, to pretend that the words were simply that. Severus forced himself to think of the practical implications instead: there was nothing there that would give either them or the Dark Lord any advantage over the other. The Dark Lord was already obsessed with Harry’s destruction, so knowing the full prophecy was unlikely to change anything. On the other hand, destroying it could bring unwanted attention to their visit if someone were to find it missing; after all, only a handful of people could remove it.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Leave it; there’s nothing else to learn from it.’

As Harry returned the orb to its place, the silence of the expansive hall was broken by the soft sound of footsteps coming their way. Severus’ wand snapped up, poised to attack as he instinctively stepped in front of Harry and the wizard who appeared at the end of the row – although the spell that had formed in his mind dissipated at the familiar face before him.

‘I knew you would come eventually,’ Albus Dumbledore said quietly into the space between them.

He looked older than he had the last time Severus had seen him, his face lined and worn by the years between, although his blue eyes retained their customary intelligence and gleam which endeared others to him as much as it caused them to fear.

Severus had both admired and despised him for that in equal measure; on the one hand, he was the man who had given him salvation from a foolish mistake, had given him a sanctuary and a job and a purpose…

…and yet it had always felt he had simply exchanged one master for another. Oh, he’d been gentler about it – no Cruciatus for one thing – but he expected obedience just the same.

He would never quite know how his rescue of Harry had changed his standing with the elder headmaster. For all his missives to the wizard, following the odd story of Hogwarts in the Prophet, it was difficult to believe this was the first direct contact they had had with each other in almost nine years.

Once, they had worked closely together, had held each other’s respect and trust, and Severus had come to know the mind of the elder wizard – never in full, oh no, because Albus was too canny for that, too used to keeping his secrets close to play and discard as he willed, ever the grand-master in his own little kingdom.

An inspirational ally, but a formidable foe, all in one; there was a reason why Severus had not trusted Harry to him. He could not be sure that Albus would have Harry’s best interests at heart, and despite the war that drove them, it was Harry who gave him purpose, his welfare ever at the core of his decisions.

He would not allow Albus’ reappearance to alter that.

‘I assume you have a reason for seeking us out?’ Severus directed the question at the headmaster, his voice betraying no hint of his current emotions.

If Albus was dismayed at the cool greeting, he did not reveal it. ‘I did indeed,’ he answered instead. ‘It is good to see you so well, Severus, and you, Harry-’, eyes behind half-moon frames sought out the young man to Severus’ right with some intensity, ‘-you have truly grown into a man worthy of your name.’

Severus narrowed his eyes, and to his side he felt Harry shift uncomfortably. ‘Your reason for being here, Albus,’ he prompted, not allowing the old man to sidetrack the conversation with pleasantries or sentimental words as he was wont to do.

Albus inclined his head. ‘Yes. There are important matters which I must share with you, matters which greatly affect Harry, and the war against Voldemort.’

Severus digested that declaration in silence, wondering at the truth of it. Deceit was not above Albus, and the chances that this was a ploy to draw Harry under his influence was as high as a genuine wish to share pertinent information. Only the certainty that Albus was committed to defeating the Dark Lord mellowed Severus’ fiercest suspicions, and made him inclined to hear him out.

‘Very well,’ he accepted, ‘but this is neither the place nor time for such a conversation.’

Albus responded with a slight smile. ‘If you would follow me-’

‘I think not,’ Severus cut him off before the headmaster could continue his suggestion, eager to set the terms of their meeting himself, so there would be no doubt as to what he expected. ‘We will Owl you with a location, and a time, and you will come alone. If you do not comply, we will leave immediately, regardless of what information you may have to share.’

The headmaster paused, speculation in his eyes as he met Severus’ unyielding stare. He gave a soft, disappointed sigh, the kind he would give to recalcitrant students brought to his office. ‘You think I would do you harm?’ he questioned softly.

‘I think you would do what you must,’ Severus replied, not unkindly.

With that truth between them, he turned his attention to Harry, indicating with a flick of his hand that it was time for them to leave. While Harry started towards the end of the row, Severus maintained his position between Albus and Harry, his wand firmly grasped in his hand, his eyes dark with warning against any attempt to prevent their departure or follow them.

Despite the unexpected interruption, their way out was as smooth as their way in, and less than half an hour from their impromptu meeting with Albus Dumbledore, they were once again at Birkbrook, once again alone with each other, faced with a difficult decision.

‘Do you trust him?’ Harry asked.

Severus grimaced minutely. ‘I trust that he wishes to win the war,’ he acknowledged simply, ‘but I do not trust that our best interests will lay at the heart of his decisions.’

Harry absorbed that in silence. ‘You think we need what information he has?’

And therein lay the conflict.

‘I think we would be foolish to ignore the possibility that he tells the truth, at least in that regard. We must defeat the Dark Lord,’ Severus affirmed, and Harry’s gaze was solemn as it met his own.

In the end, that was the ultimate truth.

 

* * *

 

Five days later, they awaited the arrival of Albus Dumbledore.

Severus had chosen their meeting place with care, the ruins of a watchtower on the crest of a hill, far removed from both Muggle or Wizarding reach. The vantage point would allow unimpeded view of the surrounding area, and clear sight of anyone approaching from the spot at the bottom of the hill where the portkey was set to arrive. What remained of the watchtower were a few low walls, not enough to hamper them should it come to a fight, but enough to provide some cover, and also useful items and emergency portkeys tucked away in various nooks and crannies. Across the whole area, of course, Severus had set several wards to prevent any except themselves from apparating in or out.

He was leaving nothing unprepared.

And yet, his limbs were tense with nerves, and he had to consciously unclench his fingers where they gripped his wand too tightly.

Although the decision to meet with Albus was a sound one, and although their choice of location and time gave them some control over the meeting, there was no doubt that Albus was a wily and pragmatic wizard, and it was a very valid fear that they may be walking into a trap.

There had been an argument the day before over whether Harry should attend or not; Severus had been loath to allow Harry close to Albus lest the wizard take some kind of advantage from it, while Harry had refused to allow him to come alone – for the same reason. In the end, they had compromised, in that Harry would attend, but should Severus give the order, he would apparate away instantly to Birkbrook, no questions asked.

It wasn’t ideal, but it gave Severus some small comfort. He would not allow Harry to be taken from him, in the same way as he would not allow himself to be separated from Harry. He had promised to protect him, and he would keep his word in this.

‘He should be here,’ Harry commented from beside him, gazing down the slope. ‘It’s three.’

‘It is fair distance to portkey,’ Severus reminded him, for he had no doubt that Albus would come, and a moment later was proven right when a shape blurred from the sky towards the ground, and morphed into the shape of Albus Dumbledore.

He’d come alone, as requested, which boded well, and Severus tried to keep his suspicions in check as the older wizard began the upward trek to join them. He noted the slow pace of the elder wizard, and wondered at the cause, whether simple years or injury had affected the great Albus.

When the headmaster arrived before them, he gave them a solemn nod, but there was a hint of warmth to his expression, a touch of sadness in his eyes. ‘I was glad to receive your owl. I had hoped to hear from you.’ He glanced around himself. ‘An interesting choice of location.’

‘This is not a social visit,’ Severus reminded him. He knew how easily Albus could manipulate the conversation to his will if allowed to. ‘You have information regarding the Dark Lord?’

Albus showed no disappointment at the direct approach to the discussion, and simply nodded in understanding. He motioned before him. ‘May I conjure a seat?’

Severus inclined his chin, and watched as Albus drew out his wand with his left hand, flicking it deftly to conjure a padded stool before him. He stepped around it to sit, settling his robes around himself, his hands laid decorously in his lap.

‘The information,’ he prompted.

Albus’ eyes dimmed and his mouth twisted downwards. ‘Indeed. The question is where to begin?’ he said with all seriousness. ‘As I believe you are already aware, before he became Voldemort, he was Tom Riddle. And as Tom Riddle, he travelled the Wizarding World so as to learn its secrets, and in the process he developed an interest in certain…unsavoury magics. What do you know of horcruxes?’ he questioned gravely.

Severus’ flinch was instinctive – for all his research into the dark arts, and his practice of it too, horcruxes were something he had only ever found scant reference to, enough to know they were the darkest of dark magics and not something he ever wished to attempt. “Unsavoury”, indeed.

‘A form of soul magic,’ he responded to Albus, and explained too for Harry’s benefit, ‘an item created through dark magic to house a portion of a person’s soul. It is believed to be a means of achieving immortality.’

‘In Voldemort’s case, it is proven,’ Albus informed them darkly.

In the pause that followed that revelation, Severus felt a shiver run through him, and he unconsciously gripped his wand tighter. He did not doubt Albus’ words; that the Dark Lord had achieved such a thing – the situation was too serious, the prospect of an immortal Dark Lord too atrocious – for the headmaster to lie to them.

‘Immortal?!’ Harry let out a gasp, and Severus could see the strain in his face, the effort he made to conceal his fear and the dismay at the impossibility of the task that they’d long ago accepted as theirs. His first thought was to reach out and offer comfort, but the headmaster’s presence stalled him.

‘You believe he created one?’ Severus questioned further.

Albus’ expression turned sorrowful. ‘I believe he created seven.’

‘Seven,’ he repeated with disbelief, understanding without needing to be told the effect on a soul split so many times; it was no wonder the Dark Lord had lost what little humanity he may have been born with. ‘Do you know what they are?’

‘Some, and it has taken long years of following his travels and his contacts to discover even those. I will tell you what I know,’ he said, and began to detail a teenage Tom Riddle’s exploits and the murders of those who had formed his horcruxes – those confirmed, those suspected, and those that remained unknown.

Severus and Harry listened in silence.

When he had finished, Albus gave a half smile. ‘As dire as it may sound, the horcruxes _can_ be destroyed; they are dark magic, but they are still just objects. However, it is not without its risks.’ His left hand reached over to rub against the right, drawing attention to the dark, withered flesh which Severus had noticed before in the Ministry. He recognised the effects of a curse, and one too far along to reverse.

‘The risk of which you speak?’ he motioned towards the hand.

Blue eyes clouded with regret. ‘That, and the foolishness of a sentimental old man,’ Albus explained, which said everything and nothing at all. ‘I know better now.’ He gave a weary sigh, and for the first time this meeting,  he looked as old as he was. ‘I do not know how long I have remaining, but I will use all the time I have left to help discover and destroy those that are left; however, I fear I can no longer continue my task alone.’

Choosing not to think on the startling news of his once-mentor’s imminent death, Severus attempted to draw the discussion back to more practical matters. ‘So five remain, and we must discover them.’

‘Yes,’ Albus confirmed. ‘I hope to have the location of another one soon. I would ask for a means to contact you when I should have news.’

Severus had expected the request, and come prepared. He reached into the pocket of his robe, and withdrew a small compact mirror which he handed to Albus. ‘Leave a message, and we will respond.’

It was likely less than Albus had wished, but it was as much as Severus was willing to give. ‘Very well,’ he simply agreed and slipped the compact in his own robe.

‘If there is nothing further to discuss, I believe it is time to depart,’ Severus informed him, but his eyes narrowed when the older wizard hesitated, his blue gaze moving to Harry.

‘If I may…I have something to give to you,’ he said, and reached into the wide sleeve of his robe, drawing out a bulky parcel wrapped in parchment and string. ‘It was your father’s, and has been in my safekeeping for many years; however, it is time it was returned to you.’ He held out the item with his healthy hand.

Harry’s glance to Severus was brief, and it was he who instructed, ‘Leave it on the stool, please.’

The old wizard’s mouth twisted downwards, but he nodded agreeably, and Severus watched attentively as Albus gathered his robes together and rose to his feet, setting the package down on the stool. The elder wizard turned around and took a few steps back the way he’d come. He paused by one of the arches and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes tracing first over Severus, then Harry.

‘Regardless of the circumstances…it is good to see you again, Severus,’ Albus told him, ‘and you, Harry.’

‘Thank you for the gift,’ Harry told him, and received an acknowledging nod.

Severus could not muster a response, so remained silent as he watched Albus slowly descend the small hill until he reached the apparition point and disappear. He looked to the side when Harry came to stand at his shoulder.

‘What do you think it is?’ Harry asked quietly, his eyes on the parcel that Dumbledore had left behind.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered, and turned his attention to the item, muttering revealing spells and detection charms under his breath. After several moments he stopped, for either Albus had cast such strong charms that Severus was unable to break them, or the parcel was just that – a parcel. ‘You can open it,’ he determined at last, and could not deny his own curiosity at what belonging of James Potter Albus Dumbledore would seek to gift Harry with.

Harry sliced through the string with a quick charm, and let the paper fall open to reveal the folds of a silky, smooth material. Reaching down, he picked up the item, and let out a surprised gasp as his hands disappeared from view. ‘Is this - ?’

‘An invisibility cloak,’ Severus informed him, torn between annoyance at the realisation of what exactly had aided James Potter in his relentless pranking of Severus during their school years, and grudging respect towards Albus for handing over such a prized possession – one which would certainly aid them in the coming months. ‘It is a valuable gift,’ he continued.

‘And it was my dad’s,’ Harry added, smoothing his hand over the cloak.

Allowing Harry a moment of contemplation over this new connection to his parents, Severus stepped away, sweeping his eyes over the grassy hill and fields that surrounded them; his mind, however, was far from here - lost in thoughts of Albus and dark magic.

A moment later, he felt Harry’s light touch on his shoulder. When he turned, the cloak was once again wrapped in brown paper, and all traces of their presence had been removed.  

‘Home?’ Harry asked, looking as weary as Severus felt inside.

‘Home,’ he agreed, wondering how their task had suddenly become so complex.

 

* * *

**July 1996**

Following Albus Dumbledore’s revelation, Severus had no intention of resting idle; their goal remained the same, even if the exact circumstances of it had altered. The older wizard may have been successful in identifying and destroying one horcrux, with a possibility of a second being discovered sometime soon, but there remained four which Severus could turn his attention to. Albus may have a wealth of information on the Dark Lord’s past to guide him, but Severus would have to pursue what leads were available to him.

He would start with Lucius Malfoy.

They’d suspected from Harry’s vision of the Dark Lord’s return that Malfoy had been tasked with hiding a horcrux for over a decade - a fact which Albus had confirmed; it hadn’t been too far a stretch to wonder that he may know of another, and Severus planned to claw out every memory he possessed to be sure.

Years apart as students, there had been little contact between them at Hogwarts, but their interactions had increased as Death Eaters - enough for Severus to learn that Malfoy was a selfish and arrogant individual; a wizard of exalted lineage and blood, he had never been required to work for what he wanted or fight for his position in life, and as such had developed a laziness and self-importance which was all too common in purebloods. They were his greatest faults, and Severus planned to take full advantage of them.  

The Death Eater’s routine had changed little in the past years; a fortnight of haunting Diagon and Knocturn Alley in disguise had revealed as much, and their patience finally proved its worth, for the night was quiet, the alley deserted - and Lucius Malfoy had arrived.

‘He’s here,’ Harry whispered beside him, ‘but he’s not alone.’

Severus’ attention immediately turned to the entrance of the street where, sure enough, Lucius Malfoy was strolling casually with his usual walking stick in hand. Beside him and a step behind was a young man Severus could only assume was his son - Draco was the name he’d heard, but could not recollect his exact age. He was certainly old enough to be attending Hogwarts, but the new school year had yet to start.

‘What do we do?’

‘Take them both,’ Severus made a quick decision - although Draco’s presence was unexpected, it may prove beneficial to them, and they did not want a witness to the abduction of Lucius. ‘Go,’ he instructed Harry, and watched the young man slip out from beside him into the street, his shoulders hunched in his ragged jacket, his feet scuffing the cobbles as he limped his way over to the Malfoys.

‘Any coins to spare, sirs?’ Harry slurred, sticking out his hand in the direction of the other wizards even as he blocked their path.

‘Get out of the way,’ the elder Malfoy demanded with a sneer as he recoiled away.

As anticipated, the distraction allowed Severus to slip closer without notice, and the silent stunning charm hit Lucius mere seconds before Harry’s own knocked out Draco. A few steps and he was before the group, his left hand reaching out for Harry even as he activated the Portkey with his right. He endured the unpleasant rush of magic as the Portkey transported them to the location they had prepared - and within moments they landed in the centre of the bare, wooden barn they had found to use for their interrogation.

‘Tie Draco up over there,’ he instructed, and Harry dutifully levitated the stunned boy to one side of the barn, conjuring ropes around his wrists and ankles.

‘How long will it take?’ Harry asked as he returned to Severus’ side.

‘As long as I need to get answers,’ he replied, and turned his attention to Lucius, rolling him onto his back and likewise securing him with magical bonds. It would have been far easier had he been able to use Legilimency on an unconscious mind, but to do so would lead him deep into dreams - and not the memories which he sought.

‘ _Ennervate_ ,’ he cast, and Lucius Malfoy blinked awake; his momentary confusion was replaced by unmitigated shock on seeing the two wizards before him.

‘Severus..? What is the mean-’

‘ _Imperio_ ,’ Severus pointed his wand at Malfoy, and the other Death Eater’s face became slack, his gaze unfocused, his question aborted. The Unforgivable was easily cast aside by a wilful and determined mind, but Severus only needed an opportunity. ‘Drop your Occlumency shields,’ he ordered, ‘and look at me.’

The moment their eyes met, his mind surged forwards into Lucius’ - it was a sensation not unlike plunging into a pool of cold water, sinking into dark depths that at first tried to suffocate him, before a sharp spear of his magic erupted like a snake, coiling and entwining itself around every aspect of Lucius’ mind and bending it to his will. This was no idle skimming of surface thoughts - he wanted to reach into Lucius’ very core; it was lucky for Lucius that Severus was an exceptional Legilimens, for a less competent wizard could tear apart the very essence of a mind and leave the victim little more than an empty shell.

‘Tell me what you know of horcruxes,’ he demanded.

Lucius began speaking, but Severus paid no mind to the words themselves; Harry would glean any useful information from that - Severus was more concerned with the sudden spark of thoughts and memories which appeared before him, associated with the subject at hand. He concentrated on the images that flashed around him, the hum of conversation, and the cloying emotions that he deftly ignored.

So the interrogation progressed; a question under Imperius to focus Lucius’ mind, and Legilimency to travel through the whirl of thoughts until he found the answer he sought.

_Tell me about the Dark Lord’s diary that you were tasked to protect._

_Have you been given any other item to safeguard?_

_Do you know if another Death Eater was given an item to guard for the Dark Lord?_

There - a glow of suspicion and jealousy which Severus traced to its source: a memory of Lucius and Narcissa, a conversation between wife and husband from over a decade ago -

‘ _Bella entrusted me with her key after her trial. She wants me to check on her vault regularly to make sure everything remains secure.’_

_‘What on earth has she got in there that requires such attention?’_

_‘A goblet of some kind. She said the Dark Lord gave it to her to protect.’_

Severus’ lips curled in satisfaction. It had to be a horcrux, and it had to be in Bellatrix Lestranges’ Gringotts vault - or it had been, before the Dark Lord’s downfall. It was still their only lead, so the question now was how best to follow it?

He stepped away from Lucius, his thoughts racing.

‘What did you find?’ Harry asked, moving to stand closer to him.

‘It would appear that the Dark Lord gifted Bellatrix Lestrange with a possible horcrux, which she proceeded to sequester in her Gringotts vault,’ Severus explained.

Harry frowned minutely. ‘Wasn’t she one of the Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban?’

Severus nodded; it was something he’d kept a close eye on over the last few months. Despite the Ministry’s wilful ignorance over the Dark Lord’s return, it had been obvious to Severus who was behind the escape - the Dark Lord was restoring his followers and swelling his ranks. Though the papers reported progress in the hunt, no escapee had yet to be recaptured. ‘Bellatrix Lestrange being free may pose a problem, but not an overly large one; we would have heard had she attempted to enter Gringotts. It means there is a high likelihood of the horcrux still being there.’

‘Don’t tell me _we’re_ going to break into Gringotts?’ Harry asked dubiously.

Severus hesitated briefly, for he had indeed considered that idea - and then dismissed it. ‘It would be the height of foolishness,’ he answered. ‘The protections at Gringotts are such that we would never succeed - or if we did, it would not be without discovery, and that is something that we cannot afford at this time.’

‘Could Dumbledore get it for us?’ Harry suggested instead, and Severus found himself impressed with the logical steps of Harry’s thoughts - so similar to his own.

‘If it were any other vault than a Death Eater’s, he might have used his influence to gain entry,’ Severus reasoned. ‘But we do not need him when we have another who can access the vault - Bellatrix Lestrange gave a copy of her vault key to her sister, Narcissa, who is none other than Lucius Malfoy’s wife.’

‘And we have her husband and son,’ Harry said, his eyes lighting up as he caught onto Severus’ meaning. He glanced over to the two unconscious wizards before them.

‘Indeed. We must take care how we approach this,’ Severus cautioned, taking out his wand and levitating Draco’s prone body to rest beside his father’s. He reached into his pocket and took out an empty glass vial, and as he fixed the impression of the two wizards in the forefront of his mind he placed the tip of his wand to his temple. When he drew it away, a thin stream of white mist trailed after his wand, which he swiftly deposited into the vial, sealing the top to keep the memory strand safely inside.

‘Harry, Apparate back to Birkbrook - I will need an owl. Not Hedwig,’ he added, before the young man could ask.

With a nod, he dutifully obeyed, and popped out of the barn. Severus took the time to conjure parchment, and with his wand, scrawled a short missive on the note and attached it to the vial. He cast a quick unbreakable charm on the glass, and by then Harry returned with a small brown owl on his arm - one of the few anonymous ones they used when communicating with the outside world. This particular one was known as Wallis; he appeared somewhat ruffled by the Apparition and hooted balefully as Severus came to attach the missive to his leg.

‘Take this to Narcissa Malfoy,’ he instructed. ‘Deliver it and leave - there is no reply needed.’

The owl chirupped at him and took flight, soaring out of the small window at the top of the barn.

‘What did you write to her?’ Harry queried, idly twisting his wand in his hand - a sure sign of agitation, though it could have been either excitement or nerves.

‘A time and place to meet,’ Severus replied, ‘It will be a few hours from now.’ It would not do to give the Malfoy matriarch too much time to ponder the circumstances, or to begin a trace of her own - although he knew his wards would stand up to scrutiny except against perhaps the most ancient of magics, the kind that the Malfoys may very well possess.

Narcissa had always been a sensible and practical woman, and Severus would have to rely on that.

‘I won’t let you go alone,’ Harry informed him, his expression exuding stubbornness. ‘It could be a trap.’

‘Harry-’, Severus began to argue on instinct, however allowed his words to fall silent, unwilling to clash with Harry at this moment. He was finding it more difficult to understand the nuances of Harry’s will of late - when he would obey and when he would argue - the latter of which had become increasingly more frequent the older the other wizard became. Besides, hadn’t this been the agreement? Harry had no hope of standing against the Dark Lord with no practical experience. As much as he wished to, Severus could not protect him forever.

He sighed softly. ‘Very well.’

 

* * *

 

Narcissa Malfoy arrived right on the requested time, strolling along Diagon Alley and taking a seat at an outside table in front of Rosa Lee Teabag. It was early still for many of the shops to be open, including the little tea shop, but the street was far from empty as witches and wizards bustled up and down in preparation for the day.

No one paid attention to the blonde witch, just as a disguised Severus was not out of place reading through a copy of the Prophet leaning against a shop front across the street. He watched for several more minutes as the blonde witch cast a warming charm over herself and picked imaginary lint off her fur-lined cloak, appearing more impatient with every moment that passed.

Only when he was confident that she had come alone did he fold up his newspaper and wander along the street, dropping into the seat opposite her. He made sure the wand in his sleeve was clearly visible and knew also that Harry would be keeping a sharp eye on the pair of them from his own position nearby.

Narcissa swept a critical glance over him, her blue eyes frosty. ‘Only a fool would blackmail a Malfoy,’ she stated coldly in greeting.

Severus hadn’t expected any less. ‘And yet here we sit,’ he replied calmly, knowing better than to rise to her bait. ‘Your husband and your son are alive and well, and will be returned to you once I have what I need.’

‘And what would that be?’ Narcissa asked. Although she had always encouraged her husband’s ties with the Dark Lord, Narcissa had never become a Death Eater herself, and was still unmarked as far as Severus knew. He’d always suspected that despite her views on blood purity and Muggles, her loyalty had always been first and foremost to her family; the hope that she would put Draco and Lucius above the Dark Lord was a gamble, but one he had to take.

‘Your sister has an item in her vault which I need - a cup, given to her by He Who Must Not Be Named,’ Severus said, watching her closely for a reaction. He’d deliberately used the more familiar term to refer to his old master,  as the use of “The Dark Lord” was a simple but often telling sign of a wizard’s sympathies.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, her expression suddenly less hostile and more calculating. ‘And what need have you of a possession of the Dark Lord?’

Severus ignored the question. ‘You have access to the vault from your sister’s time in Azkaban. I will give you an hour to retrieve the cup and bring it to this location,’ he slid a scrap of parchment over the table, Apparition coordinates scrawled over it. ‘Do this, and you will get your husband and son. Don’t…’ he trailed off, allowing the threat to be understood.

Of course, he had no actual plan to carry out any harm against the Malfoy males, but years of subterfuge made his lie believable.

Narcissa considered him for a few long moments before giving a small put-upon sigh and rising to her feet. She took the slip of parchment and tucked it into her reticule. ‘Then I suppose I have no other option.’ She did not sound happy about that fact.

‘Think of it as a business arrangement,’ Severus suggested, standing also.

Narcissa’s mouth twisted derisively. ‘This is family,’ she told him archly, ‘ _not_ business.’

Severus just nodded, and watched as she strode off in the direction of Gringotts. A few moments later, he felt another presence at his side.

‘Well?’ Harry asked, his form currently that of a slender, red-haired boy.

‘We had best collect our guests and get ready,’ Severus answered.

The allotted hour passed by a lot quicker than Severus would have suspected. He and Harry had left Diagon Alley and Apparated back to the barn to collect the Malfoys, then settled into the second location they had chosen for the exchange - a disused lock on the outskirts of Oxford. Severus positioned himself at the edge of the river, while Harry hid closer to the bank under his Invisibility Cloak, a Disillusioned and still Stupefied Lucius and Draco at his feet.

Again, Narcissa followed his instructions and arrived alone, her continuing distaste at the necessity of her current actions and locations evident on her features and the way she walked reluctantly over the dusty cobbled path towards him. Once close enough, she reached into a small drawstring velvet purse and lifted out a golden goblet with her gloved hand and turned it one way and another so that Severus could see it from all angles.

He didn’t doubt it was the horcrux they were looking for: although the little cup shone brilliantly gold, its jewels and delicate engraving rather eyecatching, Severus could feel an edge of menace emanating from it. Even Narcissa seemed unwilling to hold onto it too tightly, powerful enough to sense the same thing as he could.

‘Satisfied?’ Narcissa questioned, dropping the item back into the small bag she had taken it from.

Severus raised his wand and let off several silver sparks, the agreed upon signal for Harry to reveal himself and the Malfoys. He saw Narcissa’s stare shift to over his shoulder, and the smallest amount of tension seemed to ease from her frame. Severus’ lip curled up slightly on one side. As she had said - this was her family; her loyalty had always been her most admirable quality.

She held out the small bag with the horcrux, and Severus stepped forward to take it from her. She released the horcrux into his possession, but remained close to him, her blue eyes fixed on his.

‘Despite the disguise, your mannerisms are still recognisable,’ she told him bluntly. ‘You have been gone a long time, and have been missed in certain circles.’

Narcissa’s intelligence had also been admirable, he acknowledged idly, his fingers gripping his wand more tightly, an Obliviate on the tip of his tongue. He had already wiped both Lucius and Draco’s memories of the last day - Lucius had seen his face, and he knew well the Dark Lord’s hold and the influence of the Dark Mark that would force the elder Malfoy to reveal the truth. To allow Narcissa to leave with her suspicions went against his natural Slytherin instincts - if she did not know about him or the horcrux, then she could not expose him.

‘None of that,’ she warned, her own wand in her hand - pointed not at him, but at Harry. ‘I have taken precautions, and should something happen to me, others may start to wonder what you have been doing these past years - or just who your companion is.’

The instinctive flare of adrenaline and protectiveness he felt almost overwhelmed him, and he had to fight against the urge to curse first, deal with the consequences later. After so many years of the abstract threat of the Dark Lord, to come face to face with a definitive attack towards Harry now caused his whole body to tense. It was with extreme difficulty that he battled to maintain a calm composure.

Something must have been visible in his expression though, for Narcissa gave a dismissive yet elegant shrug, and she adopted a tone of practised boredom to say, ‘I will not speak of this to the Dark Lord -  _if_ our business is concluded.’

Severus was silent for a long moment. He had to admire Narcissa for her cunning - to turn a blackmail into one of her own. It seemed he was left with no choice, although he was loath to allow anything that could put Harry in danger.

‘This will conclude it,’ he agreed with some reluctance.

Narcissa gave a decisive nod. ‘Let this be the last time you contact me,’ she told him in a voice that brooked no argument, and moved past him to retrieve her family, reaching down to hold onto her son and husband and activating a portkey without another glance in either his or Harry’s direction.

For all his unease at letting Narcissa leave with her memories intact, when he looked down at the bag in his hand with its horcrux inside, he felt as if they had made a significant step forward.

 

* * *

 

**28 September 1996**

 

_Radio Excerpt:_

'...We interrupt your regular broadcast of The Witching Hour to bring you the breaking news that the Ministry of Magic has come under attack this evening. Alarms were raised when a largescale wizarding duel broke out at the British Wizarding Headquarters. Initial reports reveal that several individuals dressed in the traditional regalia of Death Eaters were apprehended while trying to enter the Department of Mysteries by members of the vigilante group Order of the Phoenix, and have now been handed over to the custody of the Aurors pending further investigation. Witnesses further claim that an individual believed to be You-Know-Who led the attack, although he escaped attempts at capture...’

 

* * *

 

**29 September 1996**

 

_Radio Excerpt:_

[MP]: You’re listening to Minny Proctor on the WWN, and we’ve just played Viva la Veela by Cold Plague. Now, let’s listen to some of your thoughts of the day. Caller on line one, am I speaking to Delia Butteridge?

[Caller 1]: Good morning, Minny, yes, it’s Delia.

[MP]: Why have you called in today, Delia? Do you have some thoughts on the recent news?

[Caller 1]: Why yes, indeed! I’ve been reading all the papers about this Ministry attack, and it’s just awful. So glad that no one got hurt. But what’s I’m shocked at is that they’re trying to cover up the details of it. My nephew was there, and he saw You Know Who plain as day, but what are the MLE doing about it? Nothing!

[MP]: You’re right that there’s been no official statement yet regarding the You Know Who sighting, just rumours. Let’s hope that there’s an explanation coming soon. Thanks for calling, Delia. Now, line two, Roger Caprice - what do you think of the rumours of You Know Who’s return?

[Caller 2]: I think it’s utter nonsense! Just a bunch of loonies in costumes stirring up trouble. You Know Who was defeated, we all know that. Why would he be waiting all these years to show up now?

[MP:] That’s a very interesting point, Roger. Do you think it’s coincidence or connection to Harry Potter’s disappearance?

[Caller 2]: I think it’s all a conspiracy. Harry Potter didn’t disappear. The Ministry’s got him hidden somewhere and are training him to be a war machine.

[MP]: All right, Roger...What say you to that, caller on line three?

  


* * *

 

**30 September 1996**

 

_Radio Excerpt:_

'And now, our top story for today: the Magical Law Enforcement have released the names of the individuals apprehended two days ago during a break in at the Ministry of Magic. Of note, the criminals include several of those who escaped Azkaban not nine months ago, including Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Malcolm Mulciber and Augustus Rookwood - who is in fact a former employee of the Department of Mysteries.  More worryingly, the arrests also included another ministry employee Walden Macnair, who worked for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and Hogwarts Governor Lucius Malfoy. The Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has declined to comment at this time…’

  


* * *

 

**3rd October 1996**

**_The Daily Prophet - Issue no. 70382003_ **

 

_**CORNELIUS FUDGE OUSTED AS MINISTER OF MAGIC! RUFUS SCRIMGEOUR TAKES OVER!** _

_Article by Eric Twiffle_

 

_In a shock move, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has been removed from office this afternoon, to be replaced by former Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour._

_Official opinion polls showed a significant decrease in support for Fudge following last week’s attack on the Ministry of Magic and attempts by the former Minister to cover up details of the perpetrators._

_On taking up the position of Minister of Magic, Scrimgeour released a statement to the wizarding world this morning:_

_‘It is with regret that I confirm the veracity of the recent sighting of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and ask all witches and wizards to prepare themselves for potentially difficult times ahead. We will do all in our power here at the Ministry to ensure the safety of everyone in the UK while we work to locate and apprehend some of the most feared Dark Wizards in our history.’_

_Auror Gawain Robards has been promoted to Head Auror, and will be working closely with Minister Scrimgeour over the next few weeks to question the Death Eaters who were arrested during the Ministry attack for any information that will prove useful in the coming fight._

_Security at several prominent locations has been heightened, including the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

  


**_Page 4 - “Who are the Order of the Phoenix?”_ **

**_Page 8 - “What to do in the Event of a Death Eater Attack”_ **

 

* * *

  
**November 1996**

It had taken three months to perfect the potion that would destroy the horcrux. Severus had worked endlessly in his lab during that time, researching and experimenting, staying awake through sheer force of will and the occasional Pepper-Up.

Normal potions had not worked. He’d lost count of the number he’d tried, everything from a purification elixir more commonly used in exorcisms, to an all-purpose dissolvent; the only result had been a slight tarnish to the colour of the cup.

With each attempt he’d felt the darkness emanating from the cup increase, as if the item were a living thing, aware of the attempts to destroy it.

When he’d come close, his arms had begun to shake, the Mark on his skin burning as whispers in his mind told him to stop, to walk away, to forget about the cup. Knowing it was his mind playing tricks on him didn’t lessen the sensations, though he’d built up his Occlumency shields as much as he dared.

Having seen the consequences of Albus’ attempt to destroy a horcrux, he’d taken significant precautions and kept his handling of the cup to a minimum, using thick dragonhide gloves, or even levitation spells and charmed tongs.

Although he’d allowed Harry to assist with preparation of ingredients and some steps of the potion-making, when it came to testing it on the cup, he’d banished him from the lab; if an injury were to occur, he would not allow it to be to Harry.

His final potion had been a concoction of his own making, a combination of the strongest acids and powerful destructive ingredients, so much so that it edged the line of being dark magic.

He felt only relief as he watched the Hufflepuff Goblet sink into the oily black liquid, as the metal twisted and boiled and folded in on itself, as a faint scream sounded around the warded confines of his lab.

Almost immediately, it felt easier to breathe, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. Still, he waited until long after the potion stopped bubbling just to be sure, before using his wand to scan the remaining liquid for any trace of dark magic. When the results came up clean, he deftly banished the contents of the cauldron, allowing himself a small grateful sigh.  

Despite his body’s insistent urge for rest, long ingrained practice had him cleaning up the lab before he could leave - although it was more perfunctory than thorough.

His movements were slow as he made his way to the living room, where immediately Harry stumbled to his feet from where he’d been reading on the sofa, his finger tucked into the book to keep his place. His gaze swept over Severus in swift appraisal, and some tension eased at his continued wholeness.

‘It’s done,’ Severus told him before he could ask. He was surprised at the huskiness of his voice, and realised he could not recall when he’d last eaten or drunk. The last twenty four hours of brewing had been particularly brutal, continued stirring required to maintain the efficacy of the potion.

Harry’s relief was clear to see, and he quickly set his book aside. ‘Let me get you something to eat,’ he offered, but Severus shook his head.

‘I just need sleep,’ he admitted, ‘but something when I wake would be welcome.’

It took him two days to fully recover, only leaving his bed for the occasional trip to the bathroom and to eat the meals Harry left on his desk under a warming charm. He’d been sleep-deprived before, and worked under harsh conditions, but he’d never felt so exhausted and drained as he did now.

It would seem the horcrux had had more influence than he’d first thought.

He’d have to remember that for the next one.

Routine settled once more at Birkbrook Farm. Harry’s lessons resumed, and if there was a sharper focus in both of them, neither chose to comment on it. Time was running out, and they could both feel it.

Severus kept a closer eye on the reports in the Prophet - the increased patrols at Diagon Alley, the raids on homes of wizards with suspected Dark leanings or affiliations with the Dark Lord. Unlike Fudge before him, Scrimgeour was taking a proactive approach to the Dark Lord’s return, but reading through the lines, all Severus saw was that Death Eater activity was increasing, and fear and suspicion was spreading across Britain.

Isolated as they were, progress with seeking out another horcrux was slow, although Severus did what he could with the information Albus sent him, visiting locations frequented by a young Tom Riddle and watching memory strands from the individuals he interviewed. He had more freedom than the Hogwarts Headmaster, after all, and fewer qualms when seeking information, he acknowledged to himself.

And so months passed, until the afternoon that Harry found him in his lab, the mirror compact clutched in his hand, his green eyes shining with muted excitement.

‘He’s found another one.’

 


End file.
